


The Age of the Serpent

by VivienLestrange



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Canon-Typical Violence, Death Eater Neville (sort of), F/M, Healer Neville, Healer Rodolphus, Lestrange Children, Longbottom Children, Mind Games, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Post-Hogwarts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Secret Police Chief Bellatrix
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2019-07-28 17:36:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 104,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16246526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VivienLestrange/pseuds/VivienLestrange
Summary: The wizarding war has been over for nine years. The Dark Side has won and the magical-blooded supporters of the light who've admitted defeat are accepted into the new society. Those who refuse to accept and prefer a life in hiding however live under the constant threat of death.





	1. The Fallen Auror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Harry Potter and no profit is being made with this work.

**The Fallen Auror**

Alice had never liked to visit her parents-in-law. There was something stifling about this large house full of portraits and medals earned by people long dead. Frederic and Augusta Longbottom had both joined their glorious ancestors in death by now but the house was still the same.  
Almost.  
The garden had changed. Under the hands of Neville and his wife Hannah vegetables and healing herbs were growing next to the flowers and fruit trees that had been there all along. When she felt well enough, Alice helped tending to them.

Today, even getting up from her armchair seemed to be too much for her. She stretched out her hand and took out the photograph. Frank was on there, his warm brown eyes sparkling. If only she knew what had happened to him. They said he had left, left without her, but she couldn’t believe it. Alice assumed that her husband was in fact dead. Like so many others in this picture.  
Lily and James Potter were waving at her, smiling. Sirius Black stood next to James; she could almost hear his bark-like laughter. There were Marlene McKinnon and Alastor Moody both had been her mentors, both were dead as well. So were her friends Dorcas Meadow and Fabian Prewett, Fabian’s brother Gideon, Caradoc Dearborn and Benjy Fenwick. No one on this picture had survived, at least no one where Alice knew it for sure. No one besides herself.  
If you could call it a life.  
Tears were streaming down her face and she quickly wiped them away with the sleeve of her robe. She didn’t want them to spoil the picture, it was the only one she had.  
Alice had been angry at Frank for forgetting it at his parents’, now she was glad he had done so. At least a picture so she could remember them more easily. These times felt so distant. Alice was scared she might lose the memories again.  
“Only the best die young,” Sirius had said. He was right. If only she could have gone with them.

Alice put the picture aside so she could cry without fear. She had been left behind, why she couldn’t fathom.  
Ending it herself had occurred to her many times, but she just couldn’t. What good would it do? The others had been killed for the cause, not fled their lives because they had become too painful for them to bear. That was a cowardly thing to do. Not the way a Gryffindor would go.  
If she stayed alive, the time might come when she could make a difference. It seemed impossible now, but maybe it would change again. A tiny bit of hope but it was all she had.  
Alice felt as if she were in prison. Imprisoned in this house where she had never been really welcome.  
In theory, she was free to leave whenever she wanted, but she just couldn’t do it. Wherever she went, there would be Death Eaters and she didn’t want to face them in this state.  
Alice hardly ever left the house on her own and Neville and Hannah where both working.  
The voices of children were audible from downstairs. They had twins, Francis and Deborah, seven years old now. The House-elf was looking after them.  
Alice looked at the picture again. None of them had ever known that all their sacrifices had been in vain. None of them had been forced to find out that both Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter had been killed, leaving Lord Voldemort’s path free.  
Alice was the only one who had to live with this truth.

There was another, maybe even more painful truth. Her own son Neville had given up his fight for her sake.  
After Harry’s death, the Lestranges had been put in charge of Hogwarts. Rodolphus had taken care of Neville and offered to make his greatest dreams come true if he stopped leading his fellow students to fight. Neville could become a Healer and his parents would be healthy again.  
The latter had been a bold claim but somehow, Alice didn’t know how, it had worked. At least for her. In Frank’s case something seemed to have gone wrong. Neville didn’t know more himself though, or if he did, he wasn’t telling her.  
Even now, more than eight years later, Alice was anything but healthy. Without the potion, she probably wouldn’t get along at all. The potion was becoming less and less effective though. Neville said, she needed to try without, but she simply couldn’t.

She made it through the days somehow, reading or looking at old photographs on bad days tending to the garden and teaching the children on good ones.  
Every night however, the nightmares would come to haunt her. Pain she couldn’t endure for seconds but had to for hours. She was lying on the floor in her own vomit and urine, having completely lost any control over her body. During day time, she only saw these things from a distance, at least most of the time. Sometimes, they forced themselves into her consciousness. She never knew when that would happen. At night, she was helplessly exposed to them.  
And the worst thing was: it could happen again, anytime. The opponents of Voldemort had no rights in this new world. They could drag her out of the house and do it all over again whenever they felt like it. No one would stop them.  
Whenever she heard an unusual noise, whenever the doorbell rang, she expected them to come for her.  
Alice had no one to talk to about any of these things. Not a single soul. Neville and Hannah didn’t want to hear it. They wanted to believe that everything was good so badly.  
Alice’s friends where all gone and so where her own parents. Her brother had left Great Britain years ago.  
She was all alone.

Alice needed to drink another cup of potion. Drown the pain, it was the only thing she could do.  
She forced herself to go up and walked towards the cabinet where she was keeping it. The cabinet was locked with a spell to keep the children from taking the potion. It could be harmful if drunk by people who didn’t need it. Alice’s hands clenched around the bottle. It was feeling light, too light. Looking at the bottle she saw it was empty. Neville hadn’t bought more potion.  
Alice sighed deeply. She remembered his words now. “You’re using too much of it. It’s dangerous. There’s nothing wrong with you anymore that can be cured with potions. I’m not going to make any more. If you want more, get it yourself.”  
He knew that she didn’t want to leave the house on her own. Probably, he assumed that he’d be able to keep her away from the potion that way.  
But she needed it. What did it matter if it was harmful? She didn’t mind shortening her life if it became less painful that way. Alice had no choice.  
She needed to go.

Alice used a cleaning charm on herself, opened her cupboard and took out a set of grass-green robes lined with dark red. She had loved these colors in the past. Now, the robes were far too wide for her thin body, she had to secure them tightly so they’d look decent. She had never been out to buy something that fit her now, maybe she should. Money wasn’t an issue for the Longbottoms. They had always been well-off and Neville was earning well with his healing work. Hannah wasn’t doing too badly with her job at the Department for Magical Games and Sports at the Ministry either.  
At the Death Eater-ruled Ministry.  
The cloak in a slightly darker shade of green had turned too wide as well. Still, it was covering her well and the hood would make her harder to recognize. Alice didn’t want to meet anyone. She had to add one last thing though. People who had opposed Voldemort during the war had to wear a Phoenix feather badge. Only if they proved their loyalty to the new regime, such as Neville and Hannah, they’d be allowed to stop doing so.  
Alice had earned no such right and she didn’t want to. If she had still been able to feel pride, she would have felt it for wearing this link to her former comrades.

Before she left, Alice quickly looked into the mirror. Her face had become thin, leaving her blue eyes looking too large for her face. The once auburn hair had turned as white as snow. Alice wasn’t quite sure why the Cruciatus curse had had this side-effect in her case. Neville said it had to do with her struggles against the curse’s effect. They had demanded so much of her that there was no strength left in her body to give color to her hair.  
Alice didn’t know if that was true. She did know that it had been useless. Without healing magic and the right potions, she didn’t have a chance.  
She went downstairs. “Francis, Debbie, I have to get something in town. I’ll be back soon. Sandy’s going to look after you.”  
“Okay Gran,” Francis said. “Listen, can we go to the village? We want to go to the Muggle playground.”  
Alice shook her head. “You know you can’t. You aren’t supposed to play with Muggle children. You don’t want to get into trouble, do you?”  
“But why? You all keep telling us that Muggles aren’t that different from us. They’re also people, just without magic.”  
“Yes. That’s true. The government still doesn’t want you to play with them though. They’re scared that the Muggles will realize you have magic.”  
Alice hated herself for justifying these Ministry policies to her grandchildren who knew better but she had no choice. She didn’t want them to get into trouble.  
“We can go into the garden, can’t we?” Francis asked.  
“Yes, you can.”  
“Sandy’s going to look after you while Mistress is away,” the House elf promised. Alice had never liked to ask for the service of another magical being but during those last years Sandy had been a great help. She just couldn’t manage on her own.  
“Thank you Sandy,” she said before leaving the house.

To her surprise the sun was shining warmly. It was a pleasant contrast to her mind that painted everything grey. The smell of grass and flowers was in the air, bees were humming. For a quick moment, Alice felt something like happiness to be alive, to be able to see, hear feel and touch again.  
The feeling was gone as quickly as it had come when she opened the door. From the outside, the Longbottom’s house looked like a small hut overgrown with bramble. The Longbottoms actually did grow blackberries but the bushes were much better groomed in reality. A Muggle path led towards their village. Sometimes, Neville walked over there with her and the children. Alice was envying the Muggles. They still lived freely, knowing nothing about Voldemort and his regime. As long as they didn’t have magical children or came across magic in another way, they were left alone.  
Whenever Neville found the time, he took them for those walks. Or they were visiting one of the new magical playgrounds where Francis and Deborah could play with other magical children. Alice didn’t like accompanying them there because they might meet Death Eaters. She preferred the walks on Muggle land.  
Alice had never accompanied her family to Diagon Alley before. She didn’t want to see all those people. Now, she didn’t have a choice.

Alice apparated towards Diagon Alley. To her own surprise, her magic still seemed to work almost as well as it used to. She preferred apparating to the use of Floo Powder; it made her dizzy and sick. As an Auror, Apparition had become part of her nature and she was still able to perform it well enough.  
A few unpleasant moments later she stood in front of the Leakey Cauldron. As an Apparator, she arrived on the magical side of course; everything else had been illegal in the past as well.  
Diagon Alley had changed but not as much as she had thought. The small alley was still full of people, young and old, doing their shopping or eating and drinking outside in the sun.  
The most obvious difference was the number of banners and posters. Voldemort’s motto “Magic is Might” was visible on some of those banners but there were others as well, Alice didn’t bother to read them all.  
The nearest poster advertised some Quidditch event with competitions for teams of different skill levels, another advised people to give their children Dragon Pox immunization.  
Alice remembered how this disease had swept Hogwarts during her sixth year. The strain had been quite resistant against the normal treatment and lots of people had gotten ill, Alice herself included. The Lestrange brothers had been among the few who had received the immunization potion as children and therefore weren’t threatened by the disease. That was probably why Rodolphus Lestrange was advocating this measure now. Many wizarding parents believed that going through this disease was part of growing up. Alice couldn’t truthfully claim that she had experienced any particular benefit from the experience. Frank had almost died from the disease.

She skimmed over the writing at the bottom of the poster: Department of Magical Healthcare. There had been no such Ministry department in the past, but Voldemort obviously wanted to keep everything together. Alice just couldn’t stop thinking about Dragon Pox.  
Thinking about Dragon Pox forced her to think about Rodolphus Lestrange as well. She didn’t want to but the times when she had been able to control her memories were long gone.  
He’d been one of those children others avoided by instinct. He never seemed clever or talented or brave but like someone who couldn’t be quite trusted. No one outside of his little gang of Slytherins had liked him.  
Until Dragon Pox had come over Hogwarts. Day in, day out he had helped Madam Pomfrey care for the sick and earned his house a considerable amount of points for the first time in his life. Madam Pomfrey claimed that she couldn’t have done it without him.  
Alice had begun to believe that she had been wrong about him; many others had done the same. He had started to work at St.Mungo-Hospital after Hogwarts and she had trusted him. Until that night that changed everything, she had never stopped believing in him.

Someone’s elbow hit Alice’s arm. She flinched and took a quick step backwards. “Sorry,” the elderly woman muttered quickly before walking on.  
Alice’s mind had returned to the present. She wasn’t going to read any more posters. Alice didn’t want their writing influence what she was thinking and remembering. She felt as if everyone were staring at her. Did they see what had happened to her? Was it visible? She hoped not.  
A man and a woman wearing black and green uniform walked by. The silver badge consisting of a snake underneath a shield showed that they were “Security Officers” from Bellatrix Lestrange’s Department of Magical Security.  
The man’s eyes lingered on Alice’s Phoenix badge for a moment. She felt her body tense. You are allowed to be here, she told herself. In a world ruled by Voldemort she couldn’t be sure about anything.  
The man seemed to decide that she wasn’t a threat and walked on with his comrade. Alice took a deep breath and continued her walk towards Gringotts. The Wizarding Bank still looked the way it used to.  
The only difference were two more Security Officers, fine-looking young people all of them but Alice didn’t lend herself to illusions about the things they were capable of. They didn’t seem to notice her however and she went to the Goblins at the reception.  
“I want to take money from the vault of Frank and Alice Longbottom,” she told the Goblin handing over her key. Some of the money they had earned as Aurors was left and Alice wanted to use it first. She didn’t want to live off her son and daughter-in-law.  
The Goblin checked the key carefully and called someone to take Alice to her vault afterwards. The journey in the cart was even worse than using Floo Powder but there was no alternative. When she reached her vault, Alice found it cared for properly. The Goblins might not always be nice but they did their duty well. She filled a bag with Galleons and quickly returned to the surface.

After Gringotts, Alice made her way towards the apothecary. The one where she had bought her potions ingredients for Hogwarts was still around. Some things did not change even when everything else did.  
The owner was arguing with a witch. “No, I can’t do this. It’s against the rules. Besides, your son’s supposed to learn something. He isn’t supposed to use potions to improve his results.”  
“But Felix Felicis doesn’t give him extra skills. Only a bit of luck. He really needs this. He’s so nervous during exams.”  
“I can’t do this, I’m sorry. I’m going to lose my license. And your son will be expelled if this is found out by the way. Not worth it, is it? Tell your son to study for his NEWTs that might help.”  
“This is your last word?”  
“It is my last word. If there’s nothing else, you may want to leave. There are other customers waiting.”  
The witch turned away, muttering angrily to herself.  
The next customer was a sneezing wizard who needed Pepperup Potion against his cold. This was a matter of a few minutes and then it was Alice’s turn.  
“Good afternoon,” she said.  
“Good afternoon, Madam. How can I help you?”  
Alice took a deep breath. She needed to say what she wanted to buy or she had no chance of getting it. “I need a potion against the effects of the Cruciatus curse.”  
The owner of the apothecary was looking at her as if she were mad. Maybe not such an unreasonable assumption given what she had been asking for.  
“I’m sorry; I do not have anything like that. We’re selling potions against common health problems but this definitely isn’t one of those.”  
Alice sighed. She hadn’t really thought this through. “Do you know of a colleague where I could get something like that?”  
The shop-owner shook his head. “I’m sorry Madam, I don’t.  
“Well, no problem,” Alice said not quite truthfully. “I’ll look somewhere else.”

She left the apothecary, looking around for other places that might sell potions. In the process, she didn’t take proper care of where she was going and promptly walked into some wizard.  
“Sorry, Sir, I didn’t mean to, I should have been more careful, “she said.  
The wizard looked at her curiously and walked away, saying something like: “No problem.”  
This wasn’t going well at all.

“Can I help you, Madam?” a male voice suddenly asked.  
Startled, Alice turned around and looked into the face of the Death Eater, sorry “Security Officer” she had seen upon her arrival in Diagon Alley. Her heart was beating violently and she was pressing her hands together so hard that she could feel her fingernails boring into her flesh.  
“I don’t know,” she muttered.  
“What are you looking for?” the young man asked. He had short dark hair and quite pale skin. “Maybe I can tell you where to go. I’ve been walking around here quite a few times.” He laughed.  
After considering quickly, Alice decided to accept the offer. No matter how bad she felt about it, it was actually good if the Death Eaters believed that she wasn’t well at all. The more ill, the less of a threat.  
“I’m looking for a place where I can buy a potion against the effects of the Cruciatus curse.”  
She took a deep breath. Her voice wasn’t sounding nearly as calm as she had hoped it would.  
The man raised his eyebrows.  
“You won’t find something like that here in Diagon Alley. I’m sorry. Only few people can brew such potions. You need to go to Saint Mungo Hospital. It’s not far from here.”  
Alice shook her head. “I don’t think I have to go there.”  
The man gave her a doubtful look. “You really should. Cruciatus curse use has to be reported to the Ministry as well.”  
Alice shook her head. “There’s no need for that. The Ministry should be quite aware of my situation.”  
“Oh, I see,” the Security Officer said. A few moments of awkward silence followed.  
“You could still go to Saint Mungo’s,” he finally said. “If you don’t want to do that, you could get Goldberry Leaf at the Apothecary and make a potion from it yourself. There should be recipes in most books on first-aid.”  
“Thank you,” Alice said. She should have thought of that herself. There was plenty of Goldberry Leaf in the Longbottom’s garden and she should be able to brew a potion. She had never been a genius in this subject but good enough to be accepted for Auror training. The possibility of being able to help herself made her feel a bit better.  
“You’re welcome,” the young man said. “I hope you’ll be better soon.”

Alice was asking herself what had made him choose a job in Bellatrix Lestrange’s department. Probably, he like Rodolphus Lestrange was one of those people who showed very different faces to the people they were dealing with, depending on the circumstances of the meeting.  
Still, his advice had been good. Flourish and Blotts was nearby, another shop that had made it through the two wizarding wars. Alice walked into the bookshop. There weren’t many customers, it was mid-term in Hogwarts and there was no holiday approaching either.  
Alice looked around. Some of the books being sold here wouldn’t have been there during her Hogwarts age. Most prominent among them a few biographies of the Dark Lord, one of them written by Rita Skeeter. Under different circumstances, this might have been quite amusing but Alice didn’t touch any of them. The History of the Wizarding War by Alecto Carrow couldn’t catch her fancy either. Given the things Neville had told her about this woman, Alice was surprised that she was capable of writing a book at all.  
Books on the Dark Arts were openly available now as well. Alice spotted a few copies of “The Art of Pain” by Rinaldo Lestrange, an ancestor of the Lestrange brothers who had lived during the seventeenth and eighteenth century. This book had been strictly banned in the past; Rodolphus Lestrange had almost gotten himself expelled for bringing a copy to Hogwarts during his fourth year.  
Alice couldn’t really imagine what there was to say about the Cruciatus curse that could fill a book that size but she wasn’t really keen on finding out either.  
Not far from the Dark Arts books Alice found what she was looking for. Various books on first-aid. She took one out of the shelf, it was called “First-Aid against Dark Magic Injuries” and contained the information Alice was after. The Goldberry-Leaf Potion really didn’t sound too complicated. She should be able to brew it.  
The book was approved by the Department of Magical Healthcare, a bit of information that didn’t really serve to reassure Alice.  
She decided that she could use the opportunity and get herself something to read for entertainment. Most of the novels in Augusta Longbottom’s house weren’t to her taste.

Many of the ones available here seemed to have plots focusing on the witch-hunts. Alice picked one of them up.  
“Half-dead, sixteen year old Agnes is freed from the dungeons of the Inquisition by the Knights of Walburgis. The young Healer Marius can free her from the wounds on her body but is helpless against the damage done to her soul. When Agnes returns to Hogwarts, she speaks of her ordeal to other witches and wizards. Rather than support and compassion, Agnes is facing slander and ridicule from the Muggle lovers at Hogwarts. They either accuse her of lying or claim that the Muggles couldn’t have harmed her, had she been a proper witch. In a fit of despair, Agnes tries to end her life by jumping from the Astronomy Tower. Her magical powers however safe her from death and the young witch realizes that she doesn’t want to give up.  
When she meets Marius again, he introduces her to Dark Lady Medea. Medea offers to teach Agnes the full potential of her powers but this would force her to break the laws put in place to defend Muggles and their offspring in Hogwarts…”

Shaking her head, Alice put the book back. She had no doubts about the decision Agnes was going to make.  
There had been a very similar case in Alice’s own family. Emma Fawley had not allowed her suffering at the hands of the Witch Hunters to destroy her desire to support Muggleborns within wizarding society. The pure-blood supremacists had never understood her wish for peace and reconciliation. Emma, the Unteachable, she had been called.  
During her years as an Auror, some people in the department had changed this into “Alice the Unteachable” because she kept speaking up for people who were suspected because of their family background. In Sirius Black’s case she had been right as she had learned from Neville, in Rodolphus Lestrange’s she had been wrong.

Alice looked at one of the other books. It was called “The Fall of Avalon.”  
“Morgana desperately defended the magical island of Avalon against the Muggle-friend Merlin and his treacherous supporters. When her only daughter Seren leaves the Island for the love of a man, the protection through the Great Witches’ line dies with Morgana.  
After the last defenders have been killed or fled, Avalon’s enemies change the island into a hellish place of pain and despair. The prison island Azkaban.  
Shocked by the consequences of her actions, Seren attempts to rally the last supporters of their cause forming a secret Order under constant persecution.”

Alice had to shake her head again. The kind of stories these Death Eater authors were coming up with…  
The bell rang and a dark-haired boy walked into the room. He seemed to be about eight years old and had something hauntingly familiar about him. Alice wasn’t surprised in the least when he walked directly towards the Dark Arts books and took “The Art of Pain” from the shelf, starting to read where he stood.  
She turned back to the other books. There must be something she could read. A book called “The Memory Potion” caught her attention.  
“As a young child, Aswyn’s brother witnesses a horrible crime and has a Memory charm performed on him by an Auror. His desire to safe the child from traumatic memories has consequences; Aswyn’s brother is suffering from memory problems that make him one of the worst students at Hogwarts.  
Aswyn develops an extraordinary talent for potion-making and dedicates her life to finding a way to remove overly strong memory charms less dangerous than the Cruciatus curse. Little does she know how much many people have to lose if her safe way to regain memories becomes publicly known.  
Soon Aswyn finds herself hunted by Aurors and Dark Wizards alike, unable to tell friend from foe.”

This actually did sound interesting, Alice thought. And it didn’t seem to be filled with too much Death Eater propaganda or so she hoped.  
After thinking about it for a while, Alice decided to take the books about Morgana and Agnes as well. She surely wouldn’t fall for them and it was always good to know how the enemy was trying to manipulate people.  
She was picking up the book about Agnes when she almost dropped all of them.  
“Here you are Roderic.”  
She knew this voice well, too well. It belonged to Rodolphus Lestrange.  
_Alice was back on the floor of the living-room of the little house she had shared with Frank and Neville, and he was standing above her, speaking that curse. Bellatrix tended to shout it angrily, in Rodolphus’ case only hearing him say it would be enough to know what the curse was about. Be in pain, feel worthless, be miserable for ever more. All along, he was looking at her, eye contact, devoid of any hint of pity._  
_Alice was staring at the picture of Agnes on the book, forcing herself back to the present. Slowly, she was looking around for an escape route. There was none. She couldn’t leave through the door without passing them and Apparition was impossible inside of a shop. Theft-prevention._  
_The only thing she could do was hope that they’d leave soon._

“Put that away. We’ve got several copies of it at home,” Rodolphus was telling his son.  
“Yes, but Mum doesn’t let me read them. She says I’m too young,” the boy responded.  
A reasonable opinion Alice wouldn’t have expected from Bellatrix Lestrange. She could hear Roderic put the book back.  
“You know you’re not supposed to sneak away like that,” Rodolphus said.  
“Yes. But it was so boring at Quality Quidditch Supplies. Really, how can Mum and Roxy spend so much time choosing a racing broom? They’re all the same, aren’t they? A wooden stick with a tail made of twigs.”  
In a different situation, Alice might have laughed at this remark. She had never really understood Frank’s Quidditch enthusiasm back at school either. Bellatrix had been the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team. Maybe she hoped that her daughter would follow into her footsteps.  
“I knew that they have this book here and I just wanted to take a look. Wasn’t worth it though. It’s quite boring. Not even any pictures.”  
“That’s because you are too young to understand this book. Your mother’s quite right.”  
“I don’t think that’s why.”  
He paused and then said so quietly that Alice hardly understood it: “Dad, I think Mum doesn’t love me as much as she loves Roxy.”  
What an odd child, Alice thought. So quick to jump from wanting to see pictures of the Cruciatus curse to wondering if his mother loved him. She had trouble believing that either Bellatrix or Rodolphus was capable of something like love and she didn’t really want to overhear this. At least on the outside, Rodolphus seemed to have assumed the role of the caring father now. Alice could imagine very well that he had actually read various books about being a good father, so he’d be able to pretend what was coming naturally to other people.  
Why couldn’t they simply leave and meet the rest of their family? Alice would surely not go near Quality Quidditch Supplies anytime soon.

“That’s not true,” Rodolphus tried to reassure his son. “It’s just a bit easier for her with Roxana because they have more in common. And your questions can be difficult sometimes.”  
“If I want to know something, I can’t stop before I do,” Roderic said.  
“I know. That’s why I’m going to try and answer your questions about the Cruciatus curse in a way you can understand. Before you start doing even more stupid things to find out. “  
“Really Dad? Now?”  
“Not here. When we’re back home. I’m sure Bella and Roxy will be busy with their new broom for a while.”  
Roderic laughed.  
“Now that we’re here you can have a book if you see something you like,” Rodolphus said. They walked towards the books for children which were a bit closer to Alice’s hiding place. She opened the book on first-aid and attempted to read the introduction but it was simply impossible. She couldn’t take in a single word, always fearing that she might overhear a threat if she didn’t keep listening to father and son Lestrange.  
“Look Dad, the Toadstool Tales. Are there really people who buy this?”  
“Some may do so for a laugh,” Rodolphus said. “And maybe there are parents who believe that their children can’t cope with anything else.”  
Roderic laughed. “I’m wondering if this Bloxam woman really was so shocked by the story about the Warlock with the Hairy Heart. I only think it’s stupid. You can’t take out your heart and keep it in a case. It’s just not real.”  
“These are fairytales Roderic. They’re not supposed to be real.”  
“I still think this is stupid. I’d like to hear Beatrix Bloxam’s opinion about Mum’s version of Babbitty Rabbitty though,” he said clearly amused.  
Roderic started to look at books while Alice was wondering if she had a chance to slip past them without being noticed. An Invisibility Cloak would really come in handy now.

Before she could finish the thought, Roderic was walking around the shelves. To Alice’s relief Rodolphus remained where he was. There was no reason why the boy should have any interest in her.  
“Mhm, these books are mainly for adult witches I think,” he said to himself. Then, his eyes fell on Alice.  
“Well, hello. You are Neville’s Mum, aren’t you?”  
Alice took a deep breath. This was exactly what she had wanted to avoid. She hardly noticed that he seemed to be on first-name terms with her son.  
“How do you know who I am?” The question was out before she could stop herself.  
Roderic smiled slightly. “You really look a lot like Neville and I’ve seen a picture of you.”  
Not for the first time, Alice was asking himself what Neville thought he was doing. Showing pictures of her to the Lestranges, really.  
“I’m Roderic by the way. Roderic Lestrange.” Even if she hadn’t been watching him for a while by now, she’d have guessed that right away. Roderic resembled his father very much; the only thing he seemed to have inherited from his mother was the black hair.  
“Well, nice to meet you Roderic,” Alice said not entirely truthfully.  
“Nice to meet you too. I’ve been wondering why you never came to visit us with Neville.”  
He was looking at her intently, looking even more like his father. Alice wanted nothing more than to get away from him but she had nowhere to go and he was only a child.  
“I know now,” Roderic said. “You’re not really well, are you? You’re looking so sad. What’s happened to you?”  
Alice swallowed. She hadn’t thought that her bad condition was so obvious even this child could see it. She didn’t know what to tell him. Her head was completely empty. Alice couldn’t think of a good story but didn’t have the strength to stop him asking these questions. She didn’t want him to get his father involved. Alice was quite aware of the fact that he could understand what she was saying just as she had understood his own conversation with Roderic before.  
Maybe the truth was best after all. She took a deep breath and said: “The curse that you want to learn about so badly.”  
Roderic was looking confused for a moment, and then he said: “You mean the Cruciatus curse.”  
Fine, spell it out. “Yes.”

His eyes widened in shock. “I didn’t know this could be that bad,” he said, making Alice ask herself about the impression other people were getting of her again.  
She took a few steps towards him and said softly: “The Cruciatus curse isn’t the cool and fascinating piece of magic you seem to think it is. It doesn’t require much skill or talent from anyone evil enough either. There are so many great and interesting things about magic to learn. Don’t waste your time on that.”  
“I won’t do that anymore,” Roderic promised. “I’ll have Dad explain it to me and then I’m trying not to think about it anymore. Okay? By the way, Neville has given me a really interesting plant for my birthday. It’s called a Mim, Mimb, oh I can never remember that name.”  
“Mimbulus Mimbletonia?” Alice asked. She knew that Neville was quite fond of this species. But Neville giving birthday presents to the Lestrange children? How could they have become so close?  
“Yes, that’s it,” Roderic said flicking his fingers. “Neville told me that they have many interesting properties. Maybe I should try to find out what they are.”  
“That’s a good idea. But be careful to keep the plant alive.”  
Roderic smiled. “Neville told me that too. It likes living with me though. It’s grown quite a lot already. Maybe I should get a book about magical plants.”  
“That’s a good idea,” Alice told him. “Definitely better than the Toadstool Tales.”  
Roderic laughed.  
“Bye then. Maybe you could visit us with Neville some time. I’d like to show you the Mimbulus Mimbletonia.” This time, he said the name correctly.  
Alice thanked him. She didn’t intend to tell him that she’d never set a foot into Lestrange manor if she wasn’t being dragged there by force.

Roderic returned to his father. “Can I have a book about plants?”  
“Yes, of course.”  
They walked over to the part of the book store that sold books about magical plants and other beings. Roderic quickly found what he was looking for, afterwards they paid and left.

Alice took a deep breath. Everything had gone well. Rodolphus hadn’t noticed her or ignored her, she didn’t care either way. As long as she didn’t have to talk to him.  
She was wondering if there was a chance to save Roderic from the path of darkness though. Neville was obviously attempting to do so in a way, when he was giving him a plant to take care of but she didn’t know if this would do any good when his parents taught him differently.  
He certainly did have this affinity for Dark magic all the Lestranges had. It ran in their blood and their pureblood mania made any changes about that impossible.  
She paid for her own books and considered taking a trip to Madam Malkins so she could get new robes. After catching a glimpse of both Lestranges and their children in front of the Quidditch shop she decided against it though. She had gone out once and could do so again and they probably wouldn’t be always around.  
Now she’d go home and start her brewing project.  
Alice walked towards the Leakey Cauldron and disapparated. A few moments later, she stood in front of the overgrown hut hiding the Longbottom’s home.

 


	2. The Healer's Oath

**The** **Healer’s Oath**

Neville took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the sweat off his face. Afterwards he went washing his hands and returned to his patient. The little boy was still sleeping; a result of the potion Neville had given him when he arrived so he wouldn’t feel any pain.

He put a hand onto the boy’s forehead sensing the magic inside the child’s body. Everything was working as it was supposed to be. No taint was visible anywhere.

Neville sighed with relief. This had been a hard piece of work. The boy, Eric Crabbe, had put on a cursed ring while playing in the attic. It had burned itself into his hand and made him feel as if his blood were on fire. Sometimes, such curses were so nasty that a Healer’s skills could not undo them. In these cases, the only thing they could do for the patients was easing their pain.

Eric had been lucky. The dark magic had been removed and the burned finger was going to heal. Like many dark magic wounds it couldn’t be healed right away, but over time it would.

 

 

Neville knew that the boy’s parents were outside, waiting eagerly for news. It was safe to leave Eric now, he could tell them, that their son was going to be alright.

Vincent and Millicent Crabbe were sitting on the corridor outside. Mrs. Crabbe got up right away. Her eyes were red as if she had been crying. Her husband was looking at Neville with trepidation.

“How is my son? Will he survive?”

Neville couldn’t help feeling a certain sense of satisfaction when he saw those people looking at him this way. They hadn’t given him too much respect back at Hogwarts.

“I have good news for you,” Neville said. “Your son will survive and be completely healthy again. You should be more careful in future though. Such accidents can be avoided.”

“Yes, of course,” Millicent was whispering. “Thank you, thank you.”

Her eyes were shining with tears.

“There’s no need to thank me, Millicent. I’m only doing my job,” Neville told her.

“Still, not everyone would do it so well. Can we see our son?” Crabbe asked.

“You can but he’s still asleep. The potion’s effects will last until tomorrow morning.”

This didn’t keep Millicent from walking into her son’s room right away.

Crabbe wanted to follow but stopped in his tracks and raised his left arm to perform the Death Eater greeting. Neville looked around. Rodolphus Lestrange came walking up the corridor, wearing black Death Eater robes. This implied that he was either going to attend some official function later or had to deal with some sort of trouble which required him to play up his position.

 

 

Lestrange answered Crabbe’s greeting. This too was part of the Death Eaters’ etiquette. The lower-ranking members had to perform the greeting first and wait for the higher-ranking one’s acknowledgement or lack thereof.

Neville had been observing these things very thoroughly, knowing about them often made it easier to judge situations. He had been asked to take the mark himself more than once but this was out of the question.

The answer Neville would have liked to give to this offer was: “I’ll join you when hell freezes over.” He was wise enough to keep these words to himself however and argued with the rule of neutrality applying to Healers instead. So far, this had been accepted. Neville didn’t know of a single Healer who had taken the Mark. Absentmindedly, he was running his fingers over the bracelet he had been given as a visible sign of his Healer’s Oath. That didn’t go together with the Dark Mark.

He had never seen Lestrange wear it either even though he had been in charge of health care since Voldemort’s victory. Neville was sure that once he must have worn it too.

The older Death Eater quickly looked into Neville’s direction. “Good evening Neville.” Ordinary citizens didn’t have to follow the Death Eaters’ greeting rules.

Turning back to Vincent Crabbe, he asked: “How is your son doing?”

“Fine, according to Mr. Longbottom here. My wife’s with him.”

Lestrange nodded. “Good. You were lucky. This could have ended much worse. It is very unwise to leave cursed objects lying around. Especially if you don’t know how to undo the curse.”

Crabbe grimaced. “Longbottom already told me so.”

“Being told that twice can’t hurt,” Lestrange said.

 

“Is there anything you need me for?” Neville asked. “Otherwise, I’d like to start with my evening round.”

“Of course,” Lestrange said. “I’d like to have a quick word with you afterwards though.”

“Alright,” Neville said without really meaning it. It would probably simply be about some patients or something that should be optimized, Lestrange kept looking for such things all the time. Still, there was always a small doubt that it might be something else after all.

Neville said goodbye to Crabbe and walked away from the emergency room towards the wards. One of them was home to three Hogwarts students at the moment. They had gotten themselves into a fight after a Quidditch game. Some rather nasty curses had been used and three of the nine people involved were forced to spend a week at St.Mungo’s.

Neville couldn’t remember students ever having ended up in the hospital like this during his own school time. Things had turned rougher, probably due to the greater acceptance of Dark magic nowadays.

At the moment, Neville’s greatest worry was that the students would start their fight again, when they were feeling well enough. Two Gryffindors and one Slytherin had been brought to hospital together.

To his surprise, Neville found the three students engaged in a game of cards when he walked into the ward. They had assembled around the one Gryffindor who still had to remain in bed, the other two were better off.

The students’ therapy seemed to have worked out well and Neville was glad that they seemed to have gotten over their fight too.

 

 

The situation in the next ward wasn’t as pleasant. The people in there were victims of experimental magic accidents and so far, there hadn’t been much Neville could do for them. One man still had green leaves growing all over his face while a woman was breathing out violet smoke. The other three had less visible but no less problematic conditions.

Neville shared a few words with them, hoping, that their potions would finally work.

The third ward Neville was responsible for was very familiar. He had visited his parents countless times in the Janus Thickey-ward. Some people he knew from these times were still there, among them his former teacher Gilderoy Lockhart and Agnes, a woman who was suffering from the consequences of an incomplete Animagus-transformation. At the moment, the ward wasn’t hosting any Cruciatus curse patients. Neville didn’t believe for a second that there we no victims of this curse anymore though. They simply wouldn’t be taken here because the “Ministry” wouldn’t force them into this condition if it wanted them to become healthy again.

He was glad that Lockhart did not offer him an autograph this time, being too busy with dinner. There didn’t seem to be any new problems.

Neville remembered the many times he had visited his parents and the gum wrappers his mother had given to him. She had never told him why if she even knew. If he was honest, they weren’t speaking too much at all, at least not about any personal matters. His mother preferred to stay alone in her room.

Neville almost felt like the middle brother in that ancient tale. The one who had brought his loved one back to life but she had never come back right. When Neville had fantasized about his mother coming home with him, he had never imagined her so sad and miserable.

Neville took a last look at the patients before he informed the night shift about the situation.

Then he walked upstairs to Lestrange’s office, bracing himself for whatever was going to come.

 

 

“Do sit down,” Rodolphus told Neville when he had entered his office. “You look tired.”

Neville closed the door behind him and sat down. “Yes, quite. Countering this curse has been hard work.”

“I’m sure it was. You’ve done very well. Not many wizards without any experience in the Dark arts can undo such a curse.”

“Thank you,” Neville said.

He didn’t believe that Dark magic experience would improve his healing abilities but there was no need to argue the point.

To him, all dark curses he had been dealing with so far came down to the same things exemplified in the three Unforgivable ones: Subduing, torturing and killing in many different variants. The magic behind it was always similar.

The kind of magic Neville had dedicated his life to fight against.

 

 

“I’m very satisfied with your work. Especially your plant-based approaches are highly promising. Professor Snape and I have been working on something new as well and I’m glad to tell you that we’ve finally been successful. The new potion can be put to use now.”

“What kind of potion is that?” Neville asked. He was sure that Lestrange was going to tell him anyway but he wanted to show that he was interested.

“A potion to undo Memory Charms,” Lestrange explained. “These spells are so common that we deemed it necessary to have a more reliable method to use against them than the Cruciatus curse.”

Neville flinched slightly when he heard this curse being mentioned so casually. He had read about this in Rinaldo Lestrange’s book about the Cruciatus curse. The author claimed to have used the Cruciatus curse on consenting subject for this purpose a few times. Neville had trouble believing it.

“It took us longer than we had expected but by now we have managed to create a potion which has all the desired properties. Gilderoy Lockhart won’t have to stay here for long anymore.”

He was smiling slightly.

 

 

“Given that he’s under your care, I have to ask you if you’re prepared to accompany the process.”

Neville had no idea what would happen if he refused, there was no reason to do so however. The use of new potions and healing spells at St.Mungo’s wasn’t unusual. Healers were expected to come up with new approaches if the old ones didn’t yield the desired results. Neville didn’t doubt Lestrange’s abilities either. If he was sure that something was going to work it very likely did. The fact that Snape was involved was reassuring as well.

“Of course,” he said.

“You’re going to have to inform Mr. Lockhart about the new political situation but as far as I know he’s never been a devoted opponent of our cause. This shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“Yes. I don’t think he’s ever been interested in politics.”

Working with his former teacher like that would be strange. Would Lockhart be able to remember Neville? He hoped not, second year had been one of his worst.

 

Lestrange was looking at Neville intently. “I’m aware of the fact that you too are suffering from a Memory Charm problem.”

Neville hadn’t expected anything like that but it was true. Professor Lupin had found out during his third year and Kingsley had confirmed it later. One of the Aurors had used a Memory Charm on Neville after he had witnessed the attack on his parents. It had been responsible for the memory problems plaguing him all through his childhood. By now, they were almost completely gone however.

“The new potion is an option for you as well of course. Unlike Mr Lockhart, you’re doing very well despite of the charm but it’s quite possible that you’re only able to reach your full magical potential with the charm removed. Still, it’s not impossible that the changes in your magic will cause problems with some skills you already have.”

 

 

Neville wasn’t afraid of the magical problems the removal of this Memory Charm would cause.

He didn’t know if he really wanted to see the things he was going to see if he did however. There was no way to avoid cooperating with Rodolphus Lestrange and trying to be on polite terms with his wife at the moment. Besides that Dementors were a common occurrence since the war and Neville knew that he’d be affected by them much worse if the Memory Charm was removed. He had seen this in Harry.

“I’m leaving this to your own informed decision. Maybe seeing the effects of the potion on other people will point you one way or the other. I merely wanted to inform you about the possibility.”

“I’ll think about it,” Neville said. This reply was given in complete honesty. He was probably going to think about it a lot.

 

 

“By the way, how’s Deborah doing? Has she shown some sign of magical ability by now?”

Neville swallowed hard. He really didn’t want to talk to him about his family. Especially not about the family members he was worrying about and his daughter Deborah was one of them. She was extremely shy and timid. Deborah also hadn’t shown any magical potential even though she was already seven years old. In Neville’s case this had been very similar but there had been reasons for that, the Memory Charm among other things. Neville had no idea what could cause this behaviour in Deborah however.

“Not yet,” he said, wondering what the new regime’s Squib policy was. He really didn’t want to find out.

“Roderic didn’t have his First Magic Day yet either, did he?”

“No. Even though he did use magic as you know. Bellatrix hasn’t considered this specific occurrence worthy of celebration however.”

 Neville knew exactly which “occurrence” he was referring to. Two years ago, Roderic had shown his magic for the first time by hurting Elsa Nott, a younger girl he had been playing with. She had made fun of him and refused to follow his rules.

It had been a very frightening scene, this six-year old boy standing over the screaming girl, able to cause pain without touching or even using a wand.

To Neville’s great surprise Bellatrix had reacted the way he would have as well. She had told Roderic off and demanded that he apologised to Elsa and her parents.

Neville had been very glad that he hadn’t been able to persuade his mother to join them on this particular afternoon.

He simply didn’t understand why Roderic had been doing something like that. The boy usually didn’t seem particularly evil and he was caring for the plant Neville had given him with a dedication few children would show. Still, even people like Pansy Parkinson or Theodore Nott had been unable to cause any serious effect when attempting to use the Cruciatus curse on other people at the age of seventeen and with their wands in their hands. Something was wrong with that child.

Neville wasn’t comfortable letting his own children play with him anymore.

 

 

“Roderic’s magic situation is quite worrying as well, I admit,” Rodolphus said. “There’s one thing it should show you though. Accidental magic can take on many different forms and some are much more subtle than others. Not everyone’s jumping onto roofs or setting things on fire. I’ve seen Roxy use her magic to make headaches go away at least twice for example. Such things are barely noticeable if you aren’t looking for them but it’s still magic. Maybe Deborah is showing her magic in such a way as well.”

“I’ll try to look at this more closely,” Neville said.

“Do that. Will you come around to our place tomorrow evening so I can tell you the details about the new potion?”

Neville accepted with little enthusiasm. He didn’t really like visiting the Lestranges at home because that usually meant he’d have to deal with Bellatrix as well.

 

 

On the way to the dressing room, Neville was still thinking about Deborah. It wasn’t impossible that she had already shown some kind of magic which his mother had overlooked. Somehow, he didn’t really believe that though.

His worries about Deborah weren’t only magic-related. During many nights, she was turning up in the bedroom Neville and Hannah were sharing, completely shaken by some terrible nightmare. She was never really telling Neville what those nightmares were about though. He had absolutely no idea. As far as he knew nothing bad had ever happened to her and she’d never been in a situation where it might have without his knowledge either.

Neville changed out of his lime-green healing robe and into his normal clothing and made his way to the Apparition point.

 

***

 

When Neville arrived at home, he found his mother and daughter both sitting on the couch in the living-room.

Alice was reading “The Fountain of Fair Fortune” to Deborah. The two of them were so immersed in the story that they didn’t even notice Neville.

He was surprised to hear his mother speak so clearly. Usually, her voice was more like a timid whisper and he had been asking himself if the exposure to the curse had done some damage to her vocal chords that couldn’t be undone. Obviously, this was not the case. Neville realised that he couldn’t remember what his mother’s voice had sounded like before the attack. All the memories from the almost three years before had been wiped away as well.

“So there was no charm on the fountain but they all got better because they have seen that they’re good at something?” Deborah asked after her grandmother had finished.

“Altheda did. She found out that she had healing magic. So she could heal Asha. Amata realised that the man who had left her wasn’t so important after all.”

Deborah was looking up. “Oh, hello Dad.”

“Good evening,” Alice said. “Sorry we didn’t notice you right away.” She was talking rather fast. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

Neville could tell what she was talking about. She didn’t think she could let her guard drop like that.

“No problem,” he said quickly. He hardly ever found her in a moment like that.

“You‘re looking really tired,” Alice said and Neville thought that this must be very obvious indeed.

“I had to lift a rather powerful curse. A child touched a cursed object in his parents’ attic,” he told them sitting down on an armchair.

“How are things going here?” He was waiting for a chance to tell his mother that she should carefully look for magic in Deborah but he didn’t want to do this in front of the girl.

 

 

“Oh, we’re alright. We’ve been to the playground and have met the Notts.”

Neville was surprised to hear that. His mother had taken the children to the playground on her own?

“They’re surprisingly reasonable people for Death Eater standards,” Alice said.

 “Mum.” She shouldn’t speak negatively about the Death Eaters in front of the children. He didn’t want them to get into trouble.

Still, it was remarkable that she obviously had actually talked to these people. He couldn’t remember when she had last done so at all.

“Hazel and Elsa are really nice,” Deborah said.

“Francis is already in bed,” Alice told Neville. “He’s been running around so much with Hazel.”

She was smiling slightly, something Neville had seen very rarely.

“Mr. Nott told me he was glad to see his daughters play with people who aren’t going to curse them if they don’t do what they want.”

“Yes, I’m getting along quite well with Theodore and Daphne too,” Neville said. They had been among the few Slytherins who had never made fun of him and they hadn’t supported either Umbridge or the Carrows more than necessary for people from this house.

 

 

Deborah was yawning.

“I think you should go to bed too,” Neville told her.

“Yes. Goodnight Gran.”

They got up while Alice remained on the couch. Neville hoped that he could talk to her about Deborah later when the girl was in bed.

This didn’t happen as quickly as Neville had hoped though.

After having changed into her pyjama, Deborah took a picture out of her bedside drawer and looked at it. It was a moving photograph showing Deborah and a little girl with wild black curls sitting on a swing together.

“Dad?”

Neville didn’t like the tone of her voice. He knew Deborah well enough by now to expect a difficult question.

“Yes. What’s the matter?”

“Mum didn’t mind us playing with Elsa and Hazel. Can I tell her that I’m friends with Roxy too? We’ve been talking in the mirror today and Gran almost caught us. I don’t like lying to her.”

Neville sighed. “You’re right. You shouldn’t have to lie. Maybe we should really tell her about that. But let’s wait for a good moment, okay?”

Deborah was smiling. “Yes. Roxy’s been asking me if I want to stay with her next weekend by the way. Do you think I can?”

Neville felt as if he had been punched hardly into the stomach. His little daughter staying at the Lestranges’ on her own? He didn’t even want to imagine that. What was Rodolphus playing at? Why this sudden interest in Deborah?

 

 

A shadow was creeping over Deborah’s face. “I’m not quite sure if I want to anyway. I’d love to spend time with Roxy but I don’t really want to stay with her Mum and Dad.”

Neville was glad to hear this. He really didn’t want to provoke questions from Deborah why she wasn’t allowed to visit her friend alone.

Deborah started to twirl her brown hair around her fingers, barely looking at Neville. When she spoke it was so quietly that Neville had to lean towards her to understand.

“Gran’s sometimes saying their names in her sleep. She’s having nightmares about them I think.”

Neville had to sit down; his legs didn’t want to carry him properly anymore. So Deborah had overheard things she shouldn’t have. He had really hoped he’d be able to keep the horrors of the past away from his children but at least in Deborah’s case he hadn’t been successful. The nightmares which were driving Deborah into her parents’ bedroom at night were not her own.

“What did you hear?” Neville asked forcing his voice to sound calm. It wasn’t easy at all.

“I didn’t really understand most of it. Mainly the names, they’re so unusual. Wait, there’s one dream I can remember. She was begging him to stop with something, I don’t know. I have no idea what that’s about but she’s really, really scared. I think she’s having fever or something, she is quite ill, isn’t she?”

 

“Yes. Yes she is,” Neville said, trying to hide how horrified he was. He had had no idea that his mother was still suffering from the consequences of the attack on her that much.

Better Deborah believed her grandmother had some sort of normal illness. He was going to tell her the truth but not now. Deborah was way too young for that.

“But she’s not going to die soon, is she? She’s not that old?” A new worry crossed the child’s face.

“No. You don’t have to be afraid of that. Her illness isn’t going to kill her.” Right before sleeping was definitely the wrong time to discuss these things.

“Okay. Dad, there’s something else. I didn’t want to tell you because I was ashamed but I want to do it now.”

“What is it?” Neville asked, wondering what else he was going to hear.

“Sometimes, I’m having nightmares with Roxy’s Dad in them as well. I’m dreaming that he’s in our garden or in our living-room or walking towards me on the corridor at night and I’m very scared.”

She was shaking her head. “It’s stupid, isn’t it? He’s your boss and it would be okay for him to visit you anytime.”

“It’s not stupid. You can’t choose what you dream.” Neville thought that this was completely understandable. The only thing he was surprised about was the fact, that her nightmares involved Rodolphus rather than Bellatrix. In his case, the opposite had been true.

“I’m not scared of him during the day, not really,” Deborah said. “But I don’t really want to stay with him overnight.”

“That’s completely okay”, Neville told her.

“I just hope Roxy doesn’t think I’m a coward. Do you think she could visit me sometime?”

Neville definitely preferred this option. “We have to see what Gran’s saying about that but if she doesn’t mind I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

Deborah smiled and lay down into her bed. “I’m telling her that. Is it okay if I tell her that you’re worried about letting me go away on my own?”

Neville considered the point for a moment. No, it did not matter what Rodolphus was going to think about that.

“That’s okay,” he told her covering her in the blanket. “Sleep well.”

 

On the way back downstairs Neville met Hannah. She gave him a quick welcome-kiss. “Do you have to go out again tonight?” she asked.

Neville nodded. “I’m sorry but it is necessary.”

“I know, I know,” Hannah said. “We’re going to have time for each other another day.”

Neville promised her that before returning to the living-room. His mother was still sitting on the couch now reading a book called “The Memory Potion.” The title startled Neville for a moment.

“What’s the matter Neville?” she asked.

Neville wasn’t quite sure how to begin. He didn’t want to make her think he was attacking her but Deborah overhearing her nightmares couldn’t continue like that.

Taking a deep breath, he said: “I’ve been talking to Deborah.”

“Yes. Is there something wrong with her?”

Neville decided to get it over with quickly. “She has told me that she has overheard you having nightmares.”

Alice was hiding her face in her hands. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t want that. I didn’t know she was hearing this.”

“I know that you didn’t want this,” Neville said. He felt bad about raising the issue but they had to discuss it.

“I think I can sleep in the attic in future,” Alice said.

“No, you can’t,” Neville said more sharply than he had intended. No one had been in the Longbottoms’ attic for ages. It was quite possible that there were dangerous cursed objects lying around up there as well. “You don’t have to sleep in the attic. We’re going to find another way. Maybe we can do something about your nightmares. Why did you never tell me?”

 

“I didn’t want to bother you,” his mother said. “And I don’t think there’s anything that can be done. The Goldberry-leaf potion doesn’t stop them and I can’t take Dreamless Sleep every night. I’m doing so sometimes when I need my rest, but I know it can be addictive.”

“It’s good that you’re aware of that,” Neville told her. “There are charms against nightmares as well. I need them frequently at the hospital. Maybe we could try something like that.”

“I’m not sure if this will work,” Alice said. “They’re not normal nightmares you know. They’re memories which I can’t remember during the day. You see, I can’t go and say, I want to remember now. It’s just happening sometimes, a sound, a smell, something. I can’t control it. That’s happening at night as well. I’m trying Occlumency every evening but it doesn’t work. I don’t think I can do it properly anymore anyway. You know Neville; I think there’s still something wrong with my mind.”

With a jolt Neville realised that this was exactly what he had thought back at St.Mungo’s. Still, his mother was finally telling them how she was feeling; she had avoided doing so ever since she had again remembered who she was.

 

“It’s good that you’re telling me this, Mum. This way I can try to look for a way to do something about it.”

His mother gave him a doubtful look. “Maybe. But we still haven’t decided what to do about Deborah. I don’t really want to put Silencing spells onto my room. I want to know what’s going on.”

“Yes, that’s understandable,” Neville said. “But maybe there are some which only work one way. So Deborah can’t hear what’s happening in your room but you can still hear everything. I’m sure this is possible. It would be the easiest way. But there’s something else about Deborah.”

“What else?”

“Her magic. She’ll be eight years old soon and she still hasn’t shown any sign of magic.”

“And you think this is my fault,” Alice said.

Neville swallowed. Of course, this was how it would seem to her now. “That’s not what I meant. I wanted to talk to you about this anyway. People start asking me about Deborah’s magic. With all this First Magic Day-business on the papers, you know.”

 

“I see,” Alice said. She didn’t seem quite convinced. “There isn’t really anything we can do though. Her magic will show at the right time if she has it. And if not, we need to find a way to deal with it. I don’t think we should worry about that too much though.”

“You’re right,” Neville said. It was unusual to hear something so motherly from her.

“I hope it’s not my fault,” she said, the moment gone again.

“It isn’t,” Neville said. “But please tell me if you need help in future. That’s what I’m a Healer for.”

“I didn’t want to bother you with this. There’s so much you have to do.”

“There’s nothing more important than making sure that you receive all possible help.”

“Not even fighting against You-Know-Who,” she said. “You’ve become one of them only to help me. It’s not been worth it, has it?”

Neville felt as if she had hit him over the head. How could she say something like that?

“First of all, I’m not “one of them”. I’ve never joined the Death Eaters.” He showed her his Mark-free arm. “Fighting on like I did under the Carrows would have been pointless after Harry’s death. I was only putting the others in danger and we had no chance to achieve anything this way. With my work, I can actually help people.”

“You can only do it because you’ve sided with him. You have become his apprentice; don’t tell me it’s not true.”

Neville’s mind wandered back to the early spring of 1998 after Harry’s death when the Lestranges had taken over the positions held by the Carrows before. Well almost, Bellatrix had been teaching History of Magic not Muggle-Studies. Neville had done everything he could to resist at first and expected the worst as punishment.

He still remembered very well how surprised he had been when Rodolphus’ punishments had simply consisted of making him brew potions. He had actually taught Neville how to make potions in these many hours of detention he had earned during the first weeks of the Lestranges’ rule at Hogwarts.

Taught by anyone else, Neville would have considered Rodolphus’ Dark Arts class really good. Despite of all his resistance Bellatrix’ version of wizarding history had touched him; her passionate opinions on certain occurrences had surely not been faked. Neville wasn’t sure whose version of wizarding history was the true one but he simply couldn’t believe that the witch hunts had been a fun recreational activity for real witches and wizards anymore.

He couldn’t deny that Rodolphus Lestrange’s teaching had been what had turned him into a wizard capable of becoming a Healer. He also couldn’t deny that he had later become his apprentice as far as his knowledge about fighting the effects of the Cruciatus curse and other dark curses were concerned.

 

“I did learn from him, yes. He was prepared to share his knowledge with me, for whatever reason,” Neville began.

“You thought everything would be alright if only we were given the cure. You believed he could undo what he had done,” his mother interrupted. “It doesn’t work like that, Neville.”

“I never believed it did. And I haven’t forgiven or forgotten anything. Still, I did take his knowledge so it could benefit us as well.”

It probably was time that they had this conversation. Maybe it was also time for something else. He had always wanted to protect her but probably it had done more harm than good.

“I’m not a Death Eater and I’m not sympathizing with them. I’m a sworn Healer and I’m taking this seriously. You can accompany me tonight. Maybe you’ll understand better than.”

“Accompany you where?” his mother was asking a hint of curiosity in her eyes.

“I can’t tell you here.”

“Alright. I’ll come,” Alice said. “I don’t really feel like sleeping anyway.”

Neville smiled. “Do you own any Muggle clothing? It would be best to wear that.”

Like her robes Alice’s Muggle clothes were much too wide for her current weight but with the help of a belt everything stayed where it was supposed to be. Both put on Muggle coats with hoods that hid their heads and parts of their faces.

Neville put his Healer bag together and also took the note he had been given for this situation. “Safehouse Nr. One of the Resistance is found at Number 12, Grimmauld Place.”

 

“Please read it and memorize what it says,” he told his mother.

She did, looking at him with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. “There?” she asked.

“Yes. We’ll explain when we’re there.” Neville burned the note. “Do you want to come?

“Of course. If there’s really” she fell silent, remembering that she wasn’t supposed to talk about it here.

They left the Longbottom grounds and apparated into a dark corner near Grimmauld Place.  “How long since last time I’ve done this kind of thing,” Alice said.

They were walking towards the door, Neville rang the bell. Alice was watching the door apprehensively. A few moments later, Remus Lupin opened.

They quickly slipped insight; Alice stared at Remus as if she had seen a ghost. “You’re alive?”

“Quite so,” Remus said smiling. “I’m glad you’ve finally come here.”

Alice gave Neville a reproachful look. “He only told me about it this evening.”

Remus raised his eyebrows for a moment, than the two were hugging each other.

“I didn’t want to put you into danger.”

“We’re discussing this later,” Neville’s mother said.

Soon they were joined by Kingsley Shacklebolt and Neville found himself in Hermione Granger’s arms.

Both of them were greeting Alice now, she said: “Kingsley, so you’ve joined as well by now.”

“He’s been searching for Voldemort with my husband you know,” she explained to the others.

“Yes. Dumbledore’s asked me to join the Order of the Phoenix when You-Know-How returned in 1995,” Kingsley said.

 

Nymphadora Tonks came running downstairs now as well, followed by her son Teddy who was one year older than Neville’s children. His hair was orange today.

“Ted’s already looking forward to the next round of Dragon Pox immunisation,” Remus said with a grin.

He introduced his wife to Alice, who said: “Nymphadora? Isn’t that a name of the Black family?”

“It is,” Tonks said. “My Mum used to be one of them. That’s why we can be here by the way. Blood magic and everything you know.”

“You’re Andromeda’s girl. My goodness, last time I saw you, you were Teddy’s age. But what is it about the Blood magic? You’re mother didn’t get along with her family, did she?”

“She didn’t but she hasn’t spilled Black blood. Unlike, well, it’s considered worse than marrying a Muggle-born. That’s why she’s the righteous heir or something. I don’t really know that much about this stuff.”

“Yes, maybe we should go upstairs,” Remus suggested. “The others want to meet you too, Alice.”

They were walking up a dark staircase, Alice was chatting with Remus and Kingsley. For the first time since he could remember, Neville’s mother seemed happy. He really should have told her earlier.

 

The others were happy to see her as well and she was right in the middle of the group of Voldemort’s secret opponents.

Mrs Weasley led Neville aside. “Ginny’s state hasn’t improved at all,” she said, her voice full of despair.

Neville swallowed. He didn’t understand this.

Ginny Weasley had been found almost a year ago close to death from prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus curse. Neville had found out with his examination spells that the perpetrator had been no other than Voldemort himself. Since then, all the Weasleys with the exception of Percy lived in hiding with her or in case of the two oldest sons, abroad. Fred and George had both died when they had fought the Death Eaters attempting to destroy their shop.

Joke articles like those the Weasley’s had sold weren’t legal anymore.

 

Neville had managed to stabilize Ginny’s state but she had regained neither her memory nor her use of her senses so far. This despite of the fact that he was using the very same magic he had used to help his mother and the other Cruciatus curse patients at St.Mungo’s. For all of them it had worked.

“Maybe it just takes a while. She was imprisoned for years after all,” Neville said. The helplessness when dealing with his friend was so frustrating.

Mrs Weasley had been right. Ginny’s condition hadn’t changed at all. She was still lying in her bed, her face thin and pale, contrasting with her red hair. Ginny neither seemed to notice Neville nor her mother or her brother Ron.

“Hello Ginny. It’s me, Neville. I’ve made more potion for you. Maybe it’ll help this time.”

He poured the potion into a goblet and put it on her bedside table.

First, he needed to check the flow of her magic. It was tainted once again. He suppressed a sigh. Why, oh why couldn’t this ever stop? If someone was exposed to the Cruciatus curse, their magic attempted to fight the curse in any way possible. This caused blockages and flows that were too strong or too weak.

Neville had learned to undo this damage and turn it back to normal, but in some cases, the relief wouldn’t be permanent. That’s how it was with Ginny. Still, he had to do it before the potion could have any effect. Afterwards he let her drink it and waited half an hour for the potion’s effects.

There were none.

Neville racking his brain over the reasons for his failure but he couldn’t think of any. He didn’t know what he had done wrong. The potion had been made especially for this curse and Neville was sure that the healing magic he had imbued it with was sound. Still, there was nothing he could do at the moment. Maybe he could get a look at some of Lestrange’s older writings and find something there. He had to do this without drawing suspicion though. Not an easy task.

 

The only other patient this evening was Teddy Lupin. He wasn’t ill but needed to take the Dragon Pox immunisation. The potion had a bitter, stinging taste to it that couldn’t be completely undone but the boy was drinking it bravely.

“Well done,” Neville told him.

“Thank you. Even though I don’t think I’ll ever need it. How should I contract Dragon Pox if I can never meet people from the outside?”

Teddy’s voice sounded quite sad. It must be hard to spend your entire childhood in hiding like that. Still, Neville could imagine worse fates than growing up with your parents and the rest of the Order and DA-people.

 

When Neville returned to the drawing-room, he found everyone assembled around a large Pensieve. They were showing Alice various memories from the years she had missed. Remus was just telling her about his short time as a teacher.

Neville settled down with them. He had wanted to leave again right away, so he could get enough sleep before the long working day and the evening with the Lestranges waiting for him. Still, he had never seen his mother look so happy and relaxed before, so he didn’t want to tear her away from the others so quickly.

The door was opened and Andromeda Tonks walked into the room. Neville looked at his mother. He was worried that Andromeda’s resemblance to Bellatrix might bother her, but to his relief she greeted the oldest Black sister with a smile.

“So you’ve stopped dyeing your hair now?” she asked to Neville’s surprise. He had never known Andromeda with hair that was anything other than black.

“Yes. I don’t want to waste my magic on that. There’s so much to do. And I’ve returned now, haven’t I?” She didn’t seem to be really happy about that.

“How’s Ginny,” Andromeda asked Neville.

“Nothing has changed,” Neville said gravely, wishing so badly to be able to give her a better answer.

Andromeda sighed. “I feared it. You-Know-Who himself and over such a long time. That must be really hard.”

 

Remus looked thoughtful. “Do you remember Cordelia Savage? This Auror who had been tortured by Voldemort so badly?”

Neville had heard that name before. Cordelia Savage had been one of the Aurors guarding Hogsmeade during his sixth year at Hogwarts. She had saved him from a Dementor attack once. He hadn’t known that she had ever been a Cruciatus curse patient.

“Lestrange was able to cure her. If only we knew how he did it.”

Neville sighed. He couldn’t ask that. At the moment, he didn’t have any official Cruciatus curse patients. It would be extremely suspicious.

“Alice, haven’t you dealt with St.Mungo’s in this case?” Kingsley asked. “Do you remember what she has been given?”

Neville cast him a reproachful look. His mother didn’t want to remember any meeting with Rodolphus Lestrange, he should know that.

To his surprise, Alice didn’t seem to be too upset. She laid a hand upon the Pensieve. “I’ll try to remember,” she said slowly. “I’ll show you. It’s not easy. It’s all so far away.”

“No problem. Try it if you can,” Remus said kindly.

Alice took her wand into her hand and a strand of silver was coming from it.

“Take a look, Neville,” Mr Weasley said.

 

Visible within the Pensieve was one of the Healer rooms at St.Mungo’s.

A young Rodolphus Lestrange was sitting at the desk. He wore the green Healer robes, the bracelet around his arm. Neville’s mother sat opposite of him, wearing her Auror uniform. She was looking much younger as well, her hair auburn and shiny but bound tightly back.

“What is it Alice?” Rodolphus asked. “The sooner she’s being treated the better.”

“Well, there’s something you need to know. The one who has been torturing her was Voldemort himself.”

Rodolphus looked a bit uncomfortable when the name was being mentioned but recovered quickly.

“I’m surprised. I‘ve always assumed a wizard in his position would delegate this kind of task.”

“He wanted to make an example of her,” Alice said. “It was supposed to be a warning. There was a note found beside her, signed with the Dark Mark, the spell only he knows. The note said: Keep resisting me and I will rob you of more than your life,” Alice told him.

Rodolphus was raising his eye brows. He obviously didn’t really understand why she was telling him this.

“Don’t you understand? He obviously doesn’t want her to be cured.”

“Seriously Alice, what do you expect? The Death Eater who did this to Robert Fawcett didn’t want him to be cured either I believe.”

“But this is Voldemort we’re talking about. If you fight his curse, you’re defying him,” Alice said.

“This is my job, Alice.”

“It’s just; you don’t have to do this. We’re Aurors, we know about the risk we’re taking. Our job is to defend everyone else. We can’t demand others to take risks to help us.”

“Do you want me to try and help this woman at all? Rodolphus was asking.

“Of course I do. But I’m obliged to tell you this.”

“Fine, you’ve done so. Now let’s go and start her treatment.”

 

Alice sighed. “Listen, Rodolphus I believe this warning wasn’t directed against us. It was directed against you.”

“Against me? What makes you think that? I’m only a Healer, why should he want to give me such a warning? I’m sure it was directed at the Aurors, maybe at Crouch as well.”

The young Auror shook her head. “You really ask why? You’ve found a way to defeat the Cruciatus curse. His entire campaign depends on this curse among the others. Do you really think, Voldemort doesn’t mind?”

There was a hint of pride in Rodolphus’ eyes.

“I’ve sworn to do everything in my power to help my patients. The opinion of the people who made them ill in the first place doesn’t interest me.”

“I simply wanted to warn you,” Alice said clearly impressed. “Maybe you should take measures to guarantee your safety.”

“I’ll think about it. But now, I’m going to do my duty. And if Voldemort is going to kill me for it, so be it.”

Neville was completely surprised to hear him say the Dark Lord’s name. Even more surprising was the way he had openly spoken up against Voldemort back then. What had made him change his mind so profoundly?

Young Alice’s last words send a chill down his stomach. “It didn’t say anything about killing, Rodolphus.”

 

Only swirling silver liquid was visible in the basin now. “I’m sorry,” Alice muttered. “That was the wrong memory. I wasn’t quite sure anymore when he talked about her actual therapy.”

“It was very interesting,” Remus said. Neville couldn’t agree more.

“We actually considered asking him to join the Order at that point,” his former teacher added. “Unbelievable.”

“I think I’ve got the right one now,” Alice told them. Neville wasn’t sure if she had been listening or not. He did notice that she was barely looking at her own memories in the Pensieve though.

 

The scene looked very similar. Alice and Rodolphus were talking at St.Mungo’s. He had a piece of parchment in front of him.

“Madam Savage’s patient’s provision,” he said. “She explicitly agrees to any form of treatment that might improve her condition even if there are dangers.”

“I believe you that,” Alice said. “Her condition can’t get any worse anyway, can it?”

“It can become even harder to reach her,” Rodolphus explained. “The danger of death exists as well but I’m quite confident that I can keep things from getting that wrong. I can’t guarantee that her condition won’t worsen however. That’s why I want you and therefore the Auror’s Office informed so there won’t be any trouble.”

He showed her two flasks of potion. Neville recognised them immediately. One of them was the potion that undid the curse’s lingering harmful effects on body and magic. This potion also served to calm the patient and ease the remembered pain they’d otherwise be feeling. It contained Gold Berry leaves carrying healing magic that could be applied more easily than by wand this way.

The other one, a blue liquid taken from the berries of poisonous Medea’s Leaf and modified by magic was a powerful memory stimulant though not powerful enough to undo actual memory charms.

Normally, these potions were mixed and given to the patient together.

Rodolphus quickly explained the effects to Alice before he told her what he was about to do. “This time, I’ll give the potions to her in the divided form. The healing potion first and the memory potion an hour later. This way, its effects will be stronger but at the price of more side effects as well.”

“Alright,” Alice said. “Do you think I can stay with her?”

“I’d advice against it. I don’t think she’d want a colleague with her. Family members maybe but not someone from work.”

 

“That’s enough I think”, Alice said and they moved away from the Pensieve.

“Well, I haven’t thought about that, giving the potions separately,” Neville said. He didn’t really want to try this on Ginny either. As he understood it, remembering was extremely painful if the other potion wasn’t there to ease the effects. He couldn’t attempt this without knowing more. Still, he had to keep it in mind. Maybe there would be a chance.

“Do you think this could help in Ginny’s case too?” Mrs Weasley asked.

“Maybe. I have to find out more first though,” he said.

She nodded. “It’s just so frustrating. Sitting there and your own child doesn’t know you anymore.”

“Believe me, I know,” Neville said.  With a slight shock, he saw what his watch was showing.

“I’m sorry, but we really need to leave now. I need a bit of sleep.” There wasn’t any comfort he could offer to the Weasleys at the moment anyway.

Alice sighed. “If we have to. It’s been nice to meet you all. I wish I could have stayed longer.”

“You can come back anytime,” Remus said. “We’d be happy if you did. There are many memories we want to share with you.”

Alice smiled slightly. Neville was glad to see her do so. At least for her, there seemed to be hope after all.

If only he’d find a way to help Ginny as well.

 

“Please don’t tell the children anything,” Neville told his mother when they had returned home.

“I might be ill Neville, but I’m not stupid. I really don’t get it Neville. You’ve known about this all along and left me here, believing I was the only one left? Why, Neville?”

Neville was taken aback by her fierce reaction.

“I wanted to keep you safe. I didn’t want you to get into dangerous situations again. Only when you told me all those things tonight, I realised it was wrong.”

“That took you a while.”

She seemed quite angry but Neville wasn’t really upset about that. For the first time, she was showing an emotion other than fear or sadness and she finally knew that he wasn’t a traitor.

 

When he walked up to their bed-room, Hannah was already sleeping. He crept into his bed quietly; she stirred but didn’t wake up.

He fell asleep right away.


	3. Lestrange Manor

**Lestrange Manor**

Neville’s work at St.Mungo’s went really well the next day. Eric Crabbe seemed to have survived the contact with the curse without any lasting damage. Neville was going to keep him for a week to be safe but it looked really good.

Two of the Hogwarts students injured in the school fight could leave the hospital and the third was finally able to get up from bed. Neville was really glad that they hadn’t suffered any lasting damage.

He left the hospital with a very content feeling that lasted until he reached the Lestranges’ door. They were living in the middle of a fen. The treacherous ground always made Neville uncomfortable. Bellatrix had heavily implied that unwelcome visitors were in danger of being swallowed by it.

“My name is Neville Longbottom and I’ve been invited here by Rodolphus Lestrange,” he spoke, his wand raised.

 

The ground did not swallow him. Instead, an iron gate with a falcon crest materialised in front of him, seemingly disconnected from any fence or building. Upon seeing this, Neville remembered yesterday’s memories about the Auror called Cordelia Savage. Her Patronus had taken on the shape of a falcon.

Neville rang the bell.

A few moments later, the gate was opened by the little girl he had seen on Deborah’s photo the day before.

“Hello Neville,” Roxana said, beaming. “Come in.”

Neville did. The gate wasn’t standing in the fen on its own anymore. It led into a beautiful garden that no one would have expected to be there. There were a vast number of plants both exotic ones and seemingly mundane species such as nettles. Most of them weren’t growing in neat patches but wildly mixed. Neville couldn’t deny that it was interesting for anyone who cared about plants; he didn’t think it was very practical though.

A path with white gravel led up to the house. Medea’s Leaf vines were creeping up the house walls.

“Didn’t Debbie want to come?” Roxana asked.

“I’m coming directly from work,” Neville told her.

“Ah, okay. Well, maybe another time. Maybe she’ll change her mind and stays over night.”

Neville suppressed a sigh. He didn’t want to start this discussion again.

Rodolphus Lestrange was meeting them at the door. “Roxana, you know you’re not supposed to answer the door on your own.”

“I knew it was Neville.”

“You can never know for sure,” her father said before turning to Neville. “Good evening. Sorry for that but she needs to remember this.”

“No problem,” Neville said, wondering whom Lestrange was expecting to come for his daughter.

 

They walked into the house. A hallway was leading through it; the walls were adorned with various portraits of family members from past days. They were whispering about the guest.

“I’d never have expected him to invite a Longbottom,” one of the wizards on the portraits said. “Don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“I’m married to a Longbottom,” the man on the portrait next to him said in indignation.

Still, Neville felt quite uncomfortable under their stares. Many pureblood families were known for an interest in the Dark Arts but not a single one of them had given birth to more people infamous for their use of the Cruciatus curse. Some of them had been guarding Azkaban in the past.

 

They were walking into the living-room, where Roderic was sitting, his nose behind a book about magical plants.

“Roderic, I’m going to discuss something with Neville. It can take a while, please don’t disturb us. That goes for you too, Roxy.”

“Oh, how boring,” Roxy said. “I thought we’d eat now.”

“We have to wait for your mother.”

“Do you play with me?” Roxy asked her brother.

Roderic sighed and put his book away. “Okay.”

 “Bellatrix would like you to stay for dinner, by the way,” Lestrange told Neville.

Neville wasn’t exactly keen on that but it would be rude to decline and his family knew that he might come home later. “Thank you,” he said.

“We’re going to have a vegetarian meal,” Lestrange said with a smile.

“Oh no,” Roxy said. “Not that cabbage again, is it?” Roderic was grinning.

Neville avoided looking at them. During his previous visits, he had refused to touch any of the meat offered to him. He didn’t really belief in the rumour that the name “Death Eaters” was derived from a tendency to serve the flesh of murdered Muggle children for meal but he couldn’t quite get it out of his head either.

“Why don’t you want Debbie to stay with us?” Roxana suddenly asked.

Neville was startled. He had almost forgotten about that. It was hard to keep track of the things people he was dealing with did or didn’t know. What had Roxana been told?

“I think she’s too young to stay away overnight. There’s enough time for that when she’s older.”

“I don’t understand that. Debbie’s older than me,” Roxana said.

 

“We really have to go now,” Lestrange said. “Otherwise, we won’t be finished when your mother comes back. Come on, Neville.”

They left the children in the living-room and walked towards Lestrange’s study. The room was lined with shelves holding numerous books and files. Neville looked at them curiously. Maybe, some of them contained information that could help Ginny. If only he got a chance to take a look without Lestrange watching him.

“Roxana’s right. Deborah’s age really shouldn’t be a reason. She’s going to Hogwarts in only three years,” Lestrange said.

Maybe, Neville thought. “I didn’t want to mention it in front of the children but Deborah isn’t exactly an easy child. I don’t want to burden you with her.”

He asked himself why he was trying to make excuses. Lestrange surely knew that he didn’t trust them enough to leave his daughter with them. They were responsible for most if not all of her problems. The third generation.

Still, it wasn’t a lie. Neville really didn’t like the idea of Deborah being alone in this house with her nightmares. He was also worried about Roderic’s behaviour towards her.

“It’s not always easy with our own children either,” Lestrange said. “Do think about it again. Roxana has so much magic, spending time with her might trigger Deborah’s as well.”

“I’m surprised that you want your daughter to play with a child who might be a Squib,” Neville said.

He wasn’t quite sure were these words had come from.

“I don’t think that she’s a Squib,” Lestrange said. “You know you could easily find this out, don’t you? Your gift to see another person’s magic works on young children as well.”

Neville sighed. It had occurred to him of course. His grandmother had always refused to let the Healers at St.Mungo’s do this to him. Probably, she had been scared of the result. Now, Neville was feeling just the same.

“You’re afraid of what you could find out?”

Neville nodded. There was no point denying this. It couldn’t really be used against him. Or so he hoped.

“I can understand that. Still, if she does have magic but there’s something wrong with it you could help her that way.”

Neville would have liked to tell him that it was none of his business. He was here to discuss the Memory Potion. Why this sudden interest in his daughter anyway? Neville didn’t like that at all. What could be wrong with Deborah’s magic anyway? And why? Nothing bad had ever happened to her.

He hated how he couldn’t trust Rodolphus Lestrange but was still dependent on his knowledge in so many matters.

He looked at the clock on the wall.

 

To his surprise, Lestrange caught the hint. “We really should start with our business now.”

He showed Neville the notes he had made about the Memory Potion and explained in detail how it was browed and what the different ingredients were supposed to do. As Neville had suspected, Medea’s Leaf was one of the key ingredients.

Afterwards, Lestrange told him about the potential side effects. “It should be reasonably safe. We’ve tried small doses on small Memory Charms and there was barely anything. Slightly higher temperature and a headache. If the dose is larger, I expect fever and maybe nausea as well. Not the most pleasant thing, but a reasonable price for regaining your memories I daresay.”

Neville agreed.

“Depending on the nature of the Charm and the kind of memory it’s been hiding, worse effects are possible of course. Especially, if the patient turns his magic against the potion for some reason. Like all new treatments, careful monitoring is in order. The effects shouldn’t last long though, a few hours at most. You-“

A girl’s scream kept Lestrange from finishing his sentence. “Please excuse me for a moment,” he said, walking out of the room. For a moment, Neville wondered if he should follow and check on Roxana but Lestrange was perfectly capable of dealing with any potential injury on his own.

 

Neville however finally had a chance to take a look at the things in his shelves. Lestrange owned a large number of books. Many of them were about various dark or otherwise dangerous spells, the Cruciatus curse prominent among them. Lestrange had filled many rolls of parchment with his own writings about that curse. Neville also spotted a submission for the International Society of Healing Magic. He asked himself if Lestrange intended to hand this in, when he noticed the date on the file. It was 26 years old. He must have written it during his first time at St.Mungo’s.

To Neville’s surprise, some of the books on his shelves had been written by Muggles. They were about the treatment of tortured people and victims of child abuse, probably directed at Muggle Healers. Neville would never have believed that a Death Eater would look to Muggles for knowledge but Lestrange had probably felt differently about these matters in the past.

Finally, Neville found what he was looking for. The old patient files. They were sorted in an alphabetical order and the one for Cordelia Savage was there. Neville listened carefully; Lestrange didn’t seem to be coming back yet. Neville took the file out of the shelf and opened it. It was written in Lestrange’s usual, dispassionate style. He described his various fruitless attempts to help Savage. According to him, the patient’s own magic kept the cure from working because it confused the effects thereof with the curse. This was a very common problem with Cruciatus curse patients; Neville had experienced it as well. Lestrange hadn’t been able to remove the destructive magic permanently from her body, the same problem Neville was facing with Ginny.

He had first tried to mix a higher dose of the memory stimulant into the potion but this hadn’t helped. Then he had realised that the effects of the two parts of the potion were cancelling each other out in Cordelia Savage’s case. As a result, Lestrange had given the two separate potions.

The effects of that were described in the next part of the file. Lestrange gave a short description of the side effects and the measures taken by him. Savage’s own disintegrated magic had started to work against her and Lestrange which caused various dangerous situations. The onset of the memories had also made her relive the curse she had suffered from as if it were used on her again. It had been possible to counter this effect but it didn’t sound easy.

Even written down in Lestrange’s factual style it became very clear what kind of ordeal Cordelia Savage had endured.

Neville couldn’t imagine putting Ginny through this. He didn’t think he would be capable of watching her suffer like that and still react swiftly to do what was necessary to avoid worse effects. Neville also doubted that he could handle these resurgences of the curse by combining the dark magic with his own.

In the end, her Auror training and her sense of duty were the things Cordelia Savage had been clinging to so she could find her way back. Ginny had none of these things. She hadn’t even been seventeen when she was arrested.

“Your patients don’t need your pity,” Lestrange had told him right at the beginning. “They need you to do what is necessary.”

 

“Neville?”

The file fell to the floor. Neville hadn’t realised that Lestrange had returned.

“Be careful with that. The copies at St.Mungo’s are gone for whatever reason, I need this.”

“I’m sorry,” Neville muttered, picking the file up and giving it back to him. He felt as if he had returned to Hogwarts, sneaking around the castle as part of some rebellious plan which would result in nothing but a new punishment.

“You can have a look at anything in this room whenever you like,” Lestrange said. “I’d prefer you to ask me though. Wanting to put the waiting time to a useful purpose is understandable however.”

Neville remembered the reason for Lestrange’ absence. “Are the children alright?”

“Yes, quite. They only decided to go somewhere where they aren’t supposed to go and got into a bit of trouble. Nothing to worry about.”

“Good,” Neville said.

“You are interested in the case of Cordelia Savage?”

Neville tried to remain calm. “Yes, I’ve heard of her and wanted to know what had happened.” 

This wasn’t a lie. His voice did sound quite calm. He had gained experience in this matter.

“Could you satisfy your curiosity?”

“Yes, sort of.”

Neville didn’t dare to go into the subject more deeply. More detailed information about Savage’s recovery would have been helpful of course, but he couldn’t ask for it without raising suspicion. It was bad enough that he had caught him looking for the information.

 

 “There are still some questions left, aren’t there?” the Death Eater asked.

Neville sighed. If he refused to speak, it would seem as if he was hiding something. “I was just surprised about the two separate potions,” he said. “I thought it was too dangerous to use the memory stimulant without the other ingredients.”

“You’re quite right. It was dangerous. In her case there wasn’t any choice however. She probably wouldn’t have lived for long if I hadn’t done it. The damage to her magic was too great.”

“Because the Dark Lord was the one who did it?” Neville asked.

“Did your mother tell you that?”

Neville nodded wondering why he was asking that.

“Yes, the Dark Lord himself has been one of Cordelia Savage’s torturers. His skills in dark magic are far beyond anything an ordinary witch or wizard can achieve. This was true of the damage caused by his curses as well.”

Neville remembered the Auror Savage who had come to their aid with her falcon Patronus. She hadn’t been more affected by Dementors than other people. Neville absolutely couldn’t imagine his mother dealing with these creatures as calmly as she had.

“But you could cure her completely,” he said aloud. It had been an impressive feat indeed.

“That was only possible because she was so determined. She took every little chance to remember and to fight against the curse. She wasn’t afraid of remembering. Some people acted as if I were some sort of hero back then. In fact, the only one who’s been a hero was her. She didn’t betray a single thing by the way. Even though she was facing the Dark Lord himself.”

Neville swallowed. Was his mother not able to do what this other Auror had done? Why not? Was there something about Lestrange’s own curse or Bellatrix’ which caused more lasting damage than what Voldemort himself had done? But why?

It was impossible to ask this question of course. Even if he could bring himself to do so, Lestrange would probably not be interested in informing him about his special torturing skills.

So Neville listened to him talk about Cordelia Savage instead.

“She’s probably the bravest woman I ever knew. It’s a shame she’s left but probably not surprising. The German Aurors are quite glad to have her in their team now I’ve heard.”

Cordelia Savage’s decision to leave Great Britain after Voldemort’s victory really wasn’t surprising Neville thought. She had been tortured by the new master of the Wizarding world after all. How could she accept his rule and work for him?

Neville would never have believed that Lestrange would speak about an enemy of Voldemort with so much respect. Could memories like these awaken his old self?

 

***

 

The front door was being opened and closed again.

“Ah, Bellatrix is back,” Lestrange said. “Let’s go. We’ve discussed everything of importance I think.”

“Yes. Thank you for answering my questions,” Neville said bracing himself for the meeting with Bellatrix.

“You’re welcome. I promised you that I would share these things with you and I stand by that,” Lestrange said.

They came across Bellatrix in the hallway. She was wearing dark green silken robes, her long black hair held by a golden slight. There were no visible traces of Azkaban anymore. No one who didn’t know could have guessed that she and Alice Longbottom were almost exactly the same age.

She walked with an air of pride and authority. Not for the first time, Neville noted, how different the two of them were. Rodolphus seemed ordinary, someone who tended to fade into the shadows if he didn’t draw someone’s attention on purpose. Bellatrix commanded everyone’s attention just by being there.

As soon as Rodolphus started to speak he too held a seemingly natural authority. Neville knew by now that this was the sign of advanced dark magic users. Witches and wizards who had learned to use their powers to influence others in many different ways.

 

“Good evening, Mrs Lestrange,” he said politely.

Her dark eyes were gazing into his. “Good evening, Neville,” she said.

After all those years he still had to fight the urge to back away when he heard her speak.

“I’ve heard how well you’ve done fighting this curse on Crabbe’s son,” she said. “This indicates that you do have a certain talent for the Dark Arts after all.”

Neville knew that coming from her these words were supposed to be praise but he still didn’t like them. He wanted nothing to do with the Dark Arts.

“Don’t you think a bit of practical knowledge in this field would suit you well? I’m sure Rodolphus would be glad to teach you.”

“I’m sure Neville is quite busy with the other things we have to do,” her husband said quickly. Neville gave him a grateful look.  “A healing job is more demanding than most people believe and Neville has a family to look after as well. If you wish to learn any dark magic you’re free to ask me of course, Neville.”

“Yes, thank you. At the moment, I really think I’m too busy though,” Neville said.

He did note how they were always using his first name while he was addressing them as Mr and Mrs Lestrange. In his case, Neville didn’t mind that too much, he was Rodolphus’ apprentice in a way after all. He would have preferred Bellatrix calling him Mr Longbottom though.

There was no one else around to claim that title anymore after all.

 

They walked into the dining room where the House Elves had already laid the table.

“Where are Roderic and Roxy?” Bellatrix asked.

“I’ve sent them to their rooms. They’ve been playing in the back cellar once again.”

“Mimi, would you tell Roderic and Roxana to come here?” Bellatrix addressed one of the House Elves.

“Of course Mistress,” the House Elf said, bowing.

“Thank you.”

Not for the first time Neville thought that Bellatrix was unexpectedly polite towards House Elves. Maybe it wasn’t that surprising after all though. House Elves never ever questioned her superiority.

The Lestranges owned a round table where all three of them settled down. A few minutes later the children arrived. Roxana sat down next to Neville. He couldn’t see any injuries but he was wondering what the back cellar might be and why the children weren’t supposed to go there.

 

“You’ve been talking a long time,” Roxana said accusingly.

“There were many important things to discuss,” her father told her.

The Lestranges didn’t bother to show off with their food because of Neville’s presence. The food consisted of a bake with broccoli and potatoes as well as some salad.

Roxana smiled when she saw the food. “Okay, that tastes good,” she said.

“You do know that broccoli is a kind of cabbage as well,” her brother said.

Roxana didn’t look pleased.

“Cabbage is very healthy,” Neville told them. “You really should try to get used to it.”

The discussion with the children made his tension lessen a bit. “Debbie really likes it.”

“Well, then we already know what we’re going to eat when she’s here to visit us,” Bellatrix said. Roxana made a face.

Deborah isn’t going to visit you, Neville thought. The way things were looking, he and his daughter probably wouldn’t get around that though.

Roxana kept talking to Neville. “I really love Quidditch. I hope I can play on the Slytherin team when I’m at Hogwarts.”

“You can’t know which house you’ll be in,” Neville told her.

“But everyone in my family has been in Slytherin. Mum and Dad wouldn’t want me to be in another house, would you?”

“Nowadays you can find suitable company in any house,” Bellatrix said.

 

“Quite a few Lestranges have been Ravenclaws in the past,” Rodolphus added. “The Sorting Hat actually considered this house for me a well.”

“You’ve been sitting on that chair for ages,” Bellatrix said with a smile. “And when you joined us, you didn’t look happy at all. I didn’t understand. I never wanted to be anywhere else.”

“Why didn’t you want to be in Slytherin, Dad?” Roderic asked.

“Well, I didn’t have a problem with Slytherin per se. I desperately wanted the Hat to tell me that I was intelligent at that time though. And it only could do so, if it send me to Ravenclaw. Slytherins don’t have to be intelligent as we all know.”

Neville thought of Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy Parkinson. This was definitely true.

“The Sorting Hat asked me if I wanted to go to Ravenclaw. I told it that I didn’t know if I was good enough. Then it said “better be Slytherin.” And I believed I wasn’t good enough of course. Being a Slytherin wasn’t exactly fun while Dumbledore was Headmaster. Three thirds of the school hated us right after the Sorting and the teachers did as well”, Rodolphus said.

Neville coughed. The idea of Slytherins as innocent victims of prejudice did seem quite counterfactual to him.

“Our Head of House couldn’t have cared less about the house. The only good thing about it all was the fact that your mother was there as well,” Rodolphus told his children.

“You used to care way too much about these people’s opinions,” Bellatrix said. “As I’ve told you countless times even back then.”

 

Roxana was looking at Neville expectantly. “What about you? You’ve been in Gryffindor, haven’t you? Did you want to go? Did the Hat send you right away?”

Neville swallowed another piece of broccoli and a few potatoes. Did he really want to talk about this here? Why not, those memories held no power over him anymore.

“I’ve worn the Sorting Hat for a very long time as well,” he said.

“Why?” Roxana asked curiously.

“It wanted to put me into Gryffindor but I wanted to go to Hufflepuff,” Neville told her. “I tried to persuade the Hat that Hufflepuff was the better house for me. I was anything but brave you know. I used to be scared of my teachers, of the darkness, of flying, of magic, well scared of almost anything.”

“Really?” Roxana gave him a disbelieving look.

“Really. I loved plants though and I knew that Hufflepuff was the only house with plants in the common room and the Herbology teacher was their head of house. I also knew that it was the house where I would be accepted the way I was. The only house where people wouldn’t make fun of me.”

In front of his inner eyes Neville saw himself growing up in Hufflepuff house instead. He had stopped fantasising about that during fifth year when he had finally received a bit of respect in Gryffindor but he had never been quite convinced that the decision had been right.

“The Sorting Hat didn’t want to let me go there, because my parents have been Gryffindors probably. In the end, it simply sent me there no matter how much I protested.”

“You argued with the Sorting Hat?” Rodolphus asked incredulously.

“Yes. I was sure it was better that way.”

“I don’t think the Hat had any choice,” Rodolphus said. “Someone who was prepared to question its authority at this age couldn’t be anything but a Gryffindor.”

Neville had never looked at it that way. Maybe it was true.

“It did go well then, didn’t it? You are brave after all,” Roxana said.

“In the end, it did go well, yes,” Neville told her. There was no need to speak about the terrible months and years that had come before. At least not in detail.

“At the beginning, I was very clumsy and tended to forget everything. I used to be bad at practically everything. Over time, it all got better.”

 

“But why? Why have you been like that? You are really brave and talented and everything after all.”

Roderic was very curious. Like always.

“I don’t really know,” Neville said. It wasn’t a complete lie. He didn’t know how the things he had experienced as a child had caused these results. Even if Roderic had not been the son of the people responsible for it all and if they weren’t sitting at the table with him, he wouldn’t have told the child about that. It was way too personal and not meant for the ears of an eight-year old either.

“I’ve just been glad that it got better when I grew older.”

“I would have wanted to know,” Roderic said.

“I’m sure. You always like to know everything,” Neville said.

“He really does,” Roxana said grinning. “Once, Roderic asked Mrs Crabbe why she was so fat.”

“She is really fat. I just wanted to know why. How should I know that she’d be offended?” Roderic asked. Roxanna giggled.

“We’ve been though that before, Roderic,” Bellatrix said.

“There’s one thing you should remember,” Rodolphus said. “Things might not always go smoothly when you’re learning about your magic but that doesn’t mean it will never get better.”

 

“Yes. And maybe you won’t have any problems at all,” Bellatrix added. “I always loved being at Hogwarts. It is one of the few places in our country which is completely magical. Almost everything else has been shaped by Muggles, Hogwarts has not. There used to be a few Mudbloods, but let’s not count them.”

The term still made Neville flinch, no matter how many times he had heard it by now.

“There’s so much magic everywhere. All the charms on the buildings, the magical creatures living there, the flying. You can find something new every day. It’s the place where you can discover what it really means to be a witch or wizard. The years I’ve spent there were the best years of my life.”

She put a hand in front of her mouth as if shocked by what she had just said.

The look on Rodolphus’ face made it clear that he hadn’t expected this kind of statement from his wife anymore than Neville had.

“It is a great honour to serve the Dark Lord in his rule over our nation of course,” she added swiftly. “I merely wanted to express that I used to have a good time discovering magic without having the responsibilities of an adult yet.”

“I don’t think anyone misunderstood that, Bella,” Rodolphus was quick to reassure her. “We’ve all been remembering our youth and a certain longing for this time is quite natural. I know this kind of feeling too though it’s not related to Hogwarts so much in my case.”

 

After this exchange everyone fell silent and continued eating. Neville wondered if Bellatrix Lestrange had had other dreams in her life at some part. To him, she had always been the Dark Lord’s most faithful who had devoted her entire life to his cause. Could it have been different? Did she wish that it had been different sometimes? He couldn’t really believe that. Probably, it was just like she had said, she had enjoyed the time without responsibilities and without memories of death and pain she had brought over others as well maybe.

Roderic was the one to break the silence. “Neville, can I ask you something?”

“Oh no Roderic, not again,” Roxana muttered more to herself than the others.

Neville looked at the boy. His grey eyes were exactly like his father’s. Between them, it tended to be the other way round though. Neville was the one who wanted answers.

“You can,” he told the boy, wondering if the question would have to do something with his body weight or Hogwarts career. He’d never have expected what came next.

 

“What’s the problem between your Mum and my Dad?”

Neville dropped his fork to the floor, spreading broccoli all over the Lestranges’ expensive carpet.

A hint of red crept over his face while he picked it up again and used a quick cleaning spell on the fork as well as on the carpet. This bought him a bit of time to think of a response. He couldn’t simply answer with the truth of course. Even if he had wanted to do so, he would never have done it during dinner in front of Roderic’s little sister.

“Why are you asking me that?” Maybe the boy’s response would give him an idea for an answer that could satisfy his curiosity for the moment.

“Well, I’ve met your Mum at Flourish and Blotts,” Roderic told a surprised Neville. His mother had never told him that she had been to Diagon Alley and obviously had the misfortune to walk into the Lestranges.

“I recognised her right away. She looks a lot like you. She seemed very scared though. Tried to hide from us or something. And Dad simply ignored her. Didn’t even say hello. He must have seen her though.”

Neville suppressed a sigh. It wasn’t surprising that this made the boy think that something was wrong.

“Dad told me it was because of the Phoenix feather thing. I don’t believe this though. He’s always polite to these people as well and she’s your mother!”

Neville looked into Rodolphus’ direction. He obviously did not want his son to know the truth.

 

Before he could say anything, Bellatrix was turning to her son. “Listen Roderic, you know that there was a war before you were born, don’t you?”

“Yes, you’ve told me so,” Roderic said.

Neville was sort of glad that she was taking the duty to answer from him but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear what she was going to tell him. He didn’t feel like eating anymore at all.

“We were fighting on the Dark Lord’s side and Neville’s mother Alice Longbottom was fighting for the other side. She was an Auror and a member of the secret society Albus Dumbledore had created to fight us.”

“She was an Auror?” Roderic asked. His tone made Neville wonder what he had been told that Aurors were. Surely something very different from everything Neville knew.

“Yes. And this way, we have of course, been enemies. Unlike Neville and many other people she has never formally accepted that the Dark Lord has won the war. That’s why she has to wear the Phoenix feather your father has been talking about. I don’t want you to talk to such people on your own.” 

She cast an accusing look into her husband’s direction. Probably, because Rodolphus had failed to keep this meeting from happening.

Neville felt anger rising in his throat at the implication that his mother might harm Roderic or Roxana. Maybe she merely wanted to keep the children away from such people because she didn’t want them to find out the terrible truth. They were supposed to view their parents as heroes and their side as the good one. The same story that was told to the entire Wizarding community nowadays.

 

The broccoli had gotten cold and Neville couldn’t force anymore of it down without feeling an urge to gag.

The floor clock in the living-room was tolling nine times.

“My apologies but I think it’s time to leave now,” Neville said, vanishing the small rest of food on his plate. “Thank you for your invitation.”

“I’ll accompany you to the door,” Rodolphus said.

Neville said goodbye as politely as he could, Bellatrix seemed a bit taken aback but said nothing.

Roxana gave her brother an angry look. “He’s leaving because of you and your questions.”

Neville considered telling the children that it wasn’t their fault but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Roderic’ rather tactless questions had caused the entire situation even though the boy’s curiosity was quite understandable.

Neville considered asking Rodolphus Lestrange about the meeting in Diagon Alley but decided not to. As far as Neville understood the situation, pretending not to have seen his mother had been the best option in this situation. Neville was very sure that she did not wish to speak to Lestrange.

If he had really attempted to act like you normally did if you met your staff member’s mother, a very awkward situation would have resulted. There was no normality between them, there couldn’t be.

 

Neville was feeling relieved when he had left the Lestranges’ house behind and stood in the seemingly deserted fen once again. He hoped they weren’t going to invite him again anytime soon. Maybe his sudden departure had offended Bellatrix enough to keep from inviting him in future.

Neville preferred to discuss healing magic related matters at St.Mungo’s. He also didn’t want to face the Lestrange children’s questions.

Having to deal with those of his own children was more than enough.

 


	4. The Darkness Spreads

**The Darkness Spreads**

 

The Dark Lord’s sanctuary was a cave underneath the sea. A place where most people might expect to find snakes but not human inhabitants. A place therefore, which was perfectly suited for Lord Voldemort.

Only a select few of his followers were ever allowed to come here. Many of them were his loyal supporters from the war but some of them had fallen from grace while new faces had entered the circle. Rodolphus Lestrange had always been one of the chosen few as had his wife and brother.

They were meeting in this underground hall, lit by torches whose flames burned silver and blue and green but not the normal warm orange and yellow.

Everyone who came in fell to his knees and kissed the Master’s robes. Rituals such as this had been abandoned for any appearances the Dark Lord made in front of outsiders. Only here were they still carried through, just like other traditions such as the use of the Cruciatus curse for failure.

The Dark Lord’s lesser followers were spared all these things but the price was a lower rank as well as less influence and less knowledge.

There were few Death Eaters who did not yearn to become members of the Dark Lord’s inner circle.

 

As he had done since his very first day among the Death Eaters, Rodolphus felt a small twinge of jealousy whenever he saw Bellatrix kiss the Dark Lord’s robes and look up to him with this devotion and admiration she never gave to him, she never could give to him because he had done nothing to earn it.

Ever since his first day among the Death Eaters, Rodolphus knew very well how to hide this feeling behind invisible shields of Occlumency. The Dark Lord didn’t know. Maybe he could guess, maybe not, it didn’t matter.

Bellatrix was his wife, the mother of his children, the woman who had stood by his side from his first day at Hogwarts. She was the closest friend he had ever had, what did it matter if her love belonged to someone else?

Someone who would never return it, for the Dark Lord could not love.

 

Severus Snape arrived and assumed his place on Rodolphus’ other side. His second friend and collaborator in making his healing potions. He gave Rodolphus a curt nod, the most open sign of recognition that could be expected of him.

When the last member of the inner circle Colin Avery had arrived, the Dark Lord spoke:

“Welcome my Death Eaters. I’ve called you tonight to discuss some important developments. It is my belief, and I’m sure everyone here agrees with me, that it isn’t enough to turn Wizarding Great Britain into a place free of harmful Muggle influence, unworthy people and false fear of certain forms of magic, caused by a so-called morality bound on keeping magic harmless to Muggles. It is my belief that Wizarding Europe and yes, one day the entire Wizarding world should be freed of these things.”

The members of the circle were cheering. Rodolphus and Severus only did so half-heartedly however. The entire Wizarding world was an ambitious goal indeed. Many people from other cultures actually used their magic in completely different ways. Trying to turn them all into members of one society seemed impossible to Rodolphus.

In his lifetime this most certainly wouldn’t happen. Europe was a different matter though. Rabastan had actually been sent out with a mission concerning this, his report was due today. As far as Rodolphus knew, his brother hadn’t been as successful as the Dark Lord had hoped.

 

“There are two European countries where we are going to begin our campaign. France because of its powerful magical school and great tradition of magical prowess and Germany due to the German Ministry’s misguided practice to shelter our enemies for reasons of unfounded guilt due to past events. Two of you have been to these countries so you can report on your progress. Rabastan Lestrange, I’m expecting your report about the French situation. Could you achieve anything among your relatives in Normandy?”

 

Rabastan stepped in front of the Dark Lord.

“Unfortunately, I’ve not been able to reach my relatives,” he began.

Rodolphus hadn’t expected anything else. Unlike the British one the French branch of the family was strictly against the Dark Arts. Rodolphus remembered one visit after his fifth year at Hogwarts where Carole L’étrange had kept talking about her dreams of becoming an Auror and fighting for good. Rodolphus was quite sure that Carole would have been a Gryffindor later fighting on Dumbledore’s side if she had been to Hogwarts.

After the trial, Rabastan and Rodolphus had never heard from them again.

“They weren’t at home when I arrived and didn’t leave any information about their whereabouts. I was able to speak to the leaders of the French movement, Olivier and Suzanne Dupré as well as André Martin however. They can spot a few new members but they think there should be more. They’re directly attempting to influence Beauxbatons now. The position of the Potions teacher has become void and they’re trying to get one of our  people in there. They’ve succeeded in killing Head Auror Bardot by the way. He has introduced very strict policies against any dark magic users and there was a suspicion that he might have found out too much. There’s hope that his successor will be less trouble. If they’re lucky, the position will go to someone they can bribe. I can’t quite remember the name but you’ll see it in my written report.”

 

“Very well, Rabastan. I have to confess that I’m disappointed in your relatives’ behaviour. It seems as if I couldn’t count on their support. Very disappointing indeed.”

Rabastan bowed his head. Anything he could have said would only have enraged the Dark Lord more.

“It doesn’t seem as if the French movement has come much closer to reaching our goal,” the Dark Lord continued.

Rodolphus feared that this wouldn’t become any easier either. There had been a certain rivalry between French and English people among wizards as well as Muggles. It was quite likely that the French including the dark wizards among them simply had no desire to be ruled by a British Dark Lord. He wasn’t sure if their approach could prove successful but he couldn’t think of any alternative either. With the exception of outright war. It was doubtful that this could work out in favour for the Dark Lord however. The French would probably receive aid from other European nations and they alone had much more magical citizens because of Britain’s yearlong war.

“I think I’ll have to speak to Olivier, Suzanne and André myself,” the Dark Lord continued. “I wish you to organize a meeting for me, Rabastan. That was all.”

Rabastan returned to his place in the circle, a grave look on his face.

 

“Antonin Dolohov, your report on the situation in Germany please.”

“Yes Master.” Dolohov stepped to the front. A Russian wizard who had attended Durmstrang Institute Antonin Dolohov was one of the few Death Eaters outside of Rodolphus’ circle of close acquaintances whom he respected. He was highly talented in the Cruciatus curse as well as in a variety of other curses for torture and killing, many of which unknown to British wizards. He was also fluent in English and German in addition to his native Russian.

 “The German Wizarding community has a special form of organisation. It is split in small regions with their own Ministries. All of them have their own law-enforcement departments. This is quite convenient for us because communication between them often isn’t very good and they don’t like to hand over responsibility to the central organisations. Like Rabastan I’ve spoken to the people in charge of the movement, Ulrike Prätorius, Stefan Schmitt and Thomas Langkamp. They’re quite successful in recruiting people among the older generations of former Durmstrang students who’ve learned under Karkaroff. The situation among the younger students is very different though. This has to do with the new Durmstrang Headmistress. Galina Achatowa is a witch of prodigious skill and she strongly disapproves of any “western influence” upon the school. Any sign of a student sympathizing with our cause leads to immediate expulsion and is reported to the Ministry of the country the offender hailed from.”

 

“She needs to die,” the Dark Lord said simply.

“I hate to say it Master but this may prove difficult. Achatowa’s skills rival those of Albus Dumbledore and she has strong support in the Russian Wizarding community as well as in all others which send students to Durmstrang. The school’s reputation has greatly improved since she’s in charge. I’ll pass your wish on of course.”

“Everything else would be a very bad idea indeed,” the Dark Lord told him. “Dumbledore died and so will she. Continue.”

“Well, it’s important to note that only a very small minority of German witches and wizards attend Durmstrang. That’s true for all the other countries sending students there as well. This should be obvious given the huge number of people living there but I’d still like to note it. Most young witches and wizards in Germany go to the small schools in their various regions. Within the German Wizarding community any pride in pure blood and any interest in dark magic is frowned upon due to the past experiences with Grindelwald. As you can all imagine there are quite a few German wizards who don’t want to accept this and wish to fight for a different society.”

Rodolphus could of course. The situation in the UK hadn’t been much different in his youth.

 “There is a very grave problem however,” Dolohov said. “Many of those people are supporters of the late wizard Grindelwald. Somehow, the information that you, Master, have killed Grindelwald has reached them. Those so-called Neo-Grindelwaldianer have wished to free Grindelwald from prison and bring him back to power in the past. His death was another proof of the British’s desire to win dominance over their country in their eyes. The Grindelwald supporters strongly oppose our people for this reason. To them, they’re traitors.”

 

Rodolphus had never met members of this organisation in person but he had dealt with the consequences of their actions. Almost two years ago, members of the group had abducted and tortured the nine-year old daughter of German Aurors with friendly ties to the British Magical community. The German Healers had asked for help with the child’s treatment which Rodolphus and Neville Longbottom had given. The child had recovered and the official relations between both countries had improved as well.   
“There have been quite a few fights between dark witches and wizards who support us and those who support Grindelwald,” Dolohov continued. The German Aurors have noticed these fights as a serious security problem.”

This was bad news indeed. A group of determined dark witches and wizards fighting the German Death Eaters along with the Aurors. They had to make sure that none of them could make it into Great Britain and cause trouble here.

Rodolphus was very impressed by Dolohov’s great insights into the workings of a country which wasn’t even his own in spite of the relatively bad news.

“Our supporters there are in a precarious situation indeed,” Dolohov said. “The Neo-Grindelwaldianer kept them so busy they couldn’t do much against Ministry and society so far.”

As Rodolphus had expected, the Dark Lord didn’t like this at all. He was fair enough not to punish Dolohov for he was not to blame for this situation but he received no praise for his efforts either.

 

After these matters had been settled for the moment, Bellatrix reported about the security problems within Wizarding Britain. There didn’t seem to be many however. A few enemies of the Dark Lord had escaped Azkaban with outside help in the past, but since security had been improved, such things hadn’t happened anymore.

Bellatrix assumed that the former prisoners and their helpers had probably fled to Germany or another country that offered asylum to people facing prosecution by the Dark Lord’s regime.

The crime rate was relatively low; the greatest risk was posed by stray Dementors. The Security Officers were able to capture but not kill them.

The state of the Health Care System didn’t seem to be of any interest to the Dark Lord this evening, which didn’t surprise Rodolphus too much. There weren’t any serious threats at the moment.

Severus Snape spoke about Hogwarts where everything seemed to run smoothly as well. There had been a few violent arguments but nothing worse than the stuff that had happened during Rodolphus’ own school days. Rebellion against the Dark Lord didn’t seem to be a problem anymore. Not since Neville Longbottom was on their side and had given up on his secret student army.

“I’m glad to be able to tell you that the situation inside Great Britain seems really satisfactory,” the Dark Lord said. “Good work. Now let’s hope that we can spread this to other countries as well. The tasks are clear, the meeting is over. You’re free to go.”

 

The silence was broken by noise when everyone tried to get towards the exit of the cave. It was a great honour to meet the Dark Lord in his private quarters, but most Death Eaters were still glad when they could leave again without having incurred his disapproval. Rodolphus was no exception there. The Dark Lord hadn’t seemed to be too interested in him and his work one way or the other since the war though. Rodolphus wouldn’t have objected to receiving a bit more recognition than that but he was used to it by now and he actually preferred to be left alone. He got this wish most of the time, the Dark Lord was more interested in his abroad adventures and some secret personal projects.

The actual running of the country was left to the Death Eaters which was the best course of action in Rodolphus’ eyes. He seriously doubted that the Dark Lord’s style in punishment and greeting would win him many sympathies among the general population. His few public speeches did however. Lots of people were listening to him with admiration by now, among them many witches. Bellatrix was getting competition.

Rodolphus cast a sideways glance at her. She seemed to be deeply in thought, probably going through everything the Dark Lord had said in her mind once again and trying to find ways to further his goals.

 

“Did you inform Longbottom about the Memory Potion?” Severus asked. Rodolphus turned around. He had almost forgotten about his presence.

“Yes, I did.”

Neville’s visit hadn’t gone too well. Roderic and his many questions again. Bellatrix absolutely didn’t want to tell the children what they had truly been doing during the War. During the last years, she had gotten over her unhealthy obsession with the Cruciatus curse. She had finally left the shadows of her past behind and started to use the curse rather than be used by it. Somehow, this had also caused a desire to shield her children from everything dark because they were supposed to be too young. Rodolphus didn’t really approve of that. He had always hated this kind of behaviour in his own mother and was sure that Roderic felt the same way. They had so much in common. He would have to discuss the matter with Bellatrix when the opportunity arose. No matter how you looked at it, it was much better if Roderic learned it from them and not from someone else. Rodolphus wasn’t sure if Neville wouldn’t have given in to the boy’s questioning if he had not been sitting on a table with them.

“Has he been able to grasp at least the basic concepts?”

It took Rodolphus a moment to realise that Severus was talking about Neville not about Roderic.

“I’m sure he did. He made the potion for this Lockhart and it was perfectly fine,” he told Severus.

“I’m astonished,” Severus said. “Neville Longbottom, capable of brewing a correct healing potion. Sometimes, you really are able to work miracles.”

Rodolphus didn’t like Severus’ constant jabs at Neville’s intelligence. The boy had suffered from the effects of the Memory Charm placed on him and from his various insecurity issues but he had never been stupid. He didn’t have Severus’ own brilliance, no doubt, but his diligence and good will made up for that. Neville was an excellent Healer who despite of his strong sense of compassion had the nerve to deal with the less pleasant facts of this profession. Some cases such as the one of the tortured German girl did touch him deeply but so far, that had never kept him from working effectively.

When he had met adult Neville for the first time, Rodolphus had found someone completely different from what he had expected. Severus had asked him to come to Hogwarts because the Carrows had tortured a boy so badly that Madam Pomfrey couldn’t help him. The other children had been crying and panicking but not so Neville. He had calmly done what was necessary. Well, after attempting to attack Rodolphus but there was no need to count this.

“You should reconsider your opinion. People can change, Severus.”

 

Severus’ mouth narrowed. “The way you’re thinking about him, one could almost believe he was your own son,” he said.

Severus’ suggestion was so absurd that it wasn’t really worth any reply. Rodolphus thought that his statement had bothered Severus for some reason but he had no idea why that was.

Bellatrix however didn’t want to take this remark quietly. “Really Snape, you might be undyingly in love with a Gryffindor girl but that doesn’t mean that everyone is.”

Severus’ face turned livid. She had really struck a nerve with this statement.

Rodolphus decided that it was time to end this conversation before it got too badly out of hand. He was quite pleased about Bellatrix showing signs of jealousy on his behalf though.

“We should go, I think,” he said before Severus could respond. “The Dark Lord wouldn’t want us to linger behind like that. Maybe the boats will be gone if we’re too slow.”

To his surprise no one disagreed and the three of them stepped into the last boat. Rodolphus made sure to sit between Bellatrix and Severus who were glaring at each other angrily. The boat moved away from the island on its own accord carrying them through the mists. The Dark Lord’s fortress was guarded by Dementors which were causing the mist. Rodolphus could see a few of them floating around above them.

 

The journey always reminded him of the one to Azkaban. Back then he had been travelling in a very similar boat, accompanied by two Dementors and Cordelia Savage of all people. They didn’t seem to have bothered her at all, her self-control was really admirable.

Severus was more badly affected by the Dementors than either Rodolphus or Bellatrix. His face had turned very pale and his hands were shaking slightly. Maybe because he wasn’t used to their presence like them. He had spent those thirteen years as a rather bad teacher at Hogwarts after all.

Rodolphus did the same thing Severus had done to him earlier, he used Legilimency on him. He wanted to know what was bothering him. The memory Severus was seeing in front of his inner eyes was the one where he had been bullied by the Gryffindors and later used the term Mudblood against Lily Evans. Seriously, was this still bothering him so much?

To his surprise, he saw his own words there too. “People can change, Severus.”

Severus realised what Rodolphus was doing, quickly hiding his thoughts obviously ashamed that the Dementors had made him drop his guard.

How could he still care about her after so many years? In Rodolphus’ opinion, she had never been a good friend, Mudblood or not. She had felt ashamed for her unpopular friend from the wrong house, associated with his enemies, only looking for an opportunity to cast him aside. Why couldn’t he simply accept this and move on?

He looked at Bellatrix. What had she done to him, especially in those years after Azkaban? Had this changed his feelings in any way? No it had not and he had been rewarded. She had found back to her real self after all.

 

Severus disapparated after a very short goodbye, Rodolphus wasn’t really surprised by this. He needed time to himself after the Dementor-accompanied journey. He and Bellatrix apparated home quickly as well.

When they arrived, they were greeted by a shaken-looking Roxy, wearing her nightgown.

“Mum, Dad, where have you been so long?”

“We’ve met the Dark Lord,” Bellatrix said. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I had a bad dream.”

“Well, it’s over now. You’re awake,” Bellatrix told her.

Roxy didn’t look very convinced. “I’ve been dreaming about Debbie’s Gran you know. She didn’t want me to play with Debbie. That’s why she took me to a place where you can never be happy again. Everything was dark and I was all alone.”

She was crying now. Bellatrix put an arm around her. “It was only a dream. No one can do this to you. I am the one who decides if people get locked up somewhere nowadays.”

“Debbie said that I could visit her. But I don’t think I want to. I don’t really want to meet her Gran.”

Rodolphus didn’t think that this was a particularly good idea either. Had Neville come up with this or had it been the child’s idea?

“I hope Debbie doesn’t think I don’t like her when I say no.”

“I don’t think so. She can’t come here either after all,” Rodolphus said. He wasn’t quite sure if Deborah or Neville was the one objecting to this.

“Maybe Neville can simply take Deborah with him when he’s visiting us next time,” he suggested. “This way you can spend a bit of time together.”

“Yes, but we don’t have to decide this tonight,” Bellatrix said. “You should go back to your bed now.”

“Can I stay in your room?”

“No, you’re too old for that,” Bellatrix said.

“Will you read me a story?”

 “Alright,” Bellatrix said giving her husband an apologetic look. “I’ll see you later.”

 

This wasn’t how Rodolphus had imagined the rest of the evening to go. Children had a tendency to mess up any plans however, they had learned this very quickly. The decision not to have any during the war had been absolutely correct.

Rodolphus wouldn’t be worried about a normal nightmare but he didn’t like this. The children knew that something was wrong between their two families but they didn’t know what it was. As far as Rodolphus knew this was true for Neville’s children as well. He strongly suspected that it was one of the reasons for Deborah’s magic problems.

Rodolphus could imagine telling Roderic but not Roxy. She was too young and would never understand. Roxy living in fear of Alice wasn’t desirable either though. She’d never harm a child, he was certain of that. If Roxy ever met her she like Roderic would know that something was wrong with her as well as between her and Roxy’s parents. There was no viable solution to this.

Without realising it, Rodolphus had walked towards the door of a room where he kept various objects he didn’t really need too frequently. He muttered the password and walked inside. One cupboard contained an assortment of inherited or captured wands. Having spare wands was always a good idea.

One of those wands had belonged to Alice Longbottom. Poplar and Phoenix feather, an unusual combination. Usually, a captured wand would work quite well for its new owner. Alice’s wand however was as stubborn as its mistress. It refused to perform even the simplest spell for Rodolphus. The wand was practically useless to him. He probably should give it back but for some reason, Neville had never mentioned the wand. Maybe she hadn’t told him. Sometimes he thought that she wasn’t telling him anything. Otherwise, Neville would probably behave differently.

 

Rodolphus had no idea what kind of effect the Memory Potion would have on him if he ever took it. He had had to inform him about the possibility though; anything else would have been suspicious.

Maybe Severus hadn’t been so wrong after all. It would have been better if their paths hadn’t intertwined so much again. Rodolphus didn’t tell anyone, not even his wife, but he knew that Neville’s loyalty to the new regime was nowhere as strong as most people believed. From his side, there was something like a truce between them but nothing more.

Neville did not only offer help to the patients at St.Mungo-Hospital but also to those who weren’t eligible for treatment there. He was sure that Rodolphus did not know but the signs were hard to miss. Neville often seemed way more tired than he should be from his scheduled work, not only his body but also his magic. He also tended to ask questions and search for information that didn’t fit any of his current patients.

How could Rodolphus blame him for that? Had he not done just the same? Werewolves, Death Eaters, women from Knockturn Alley, his oath had included them all.

Still, Rodolphus knew that he wasn’t supposed to keep this a secret. He was neglecting his duty. He also knew that neither the Dark Lord nor any of the other Death Eaters understood the meaning of the Healer’s Oath. They’d consider him an enemy of the state and punish him accordingly.

 

Sometimes he did wonder if he had shared his knowledge with the wrong person after all.

The answer was always the same one, no. Rodolphus couldn’t think of anyone else who would have understood it all so easily and could carry it out so well.

There was something else as well. When working with Neville he was able to connect with that other side, the life before Voldemort, in a way he had considered impossible before.

It was an extremely fragile balance.

If something went slightly wrong everything would come tumbling down and most of the things that could go wrong where outside of his control.

So many people kept secrets from each other which could easily come to the light. He didn’t tell Bellatrix that he knew about Neville’s secret patients and Neville wasn’t aware of that either. Alice (presumably) wasn’t telling Neville about the torture while his own memories were hidden beneath the Memory Charm. All four children didn’t know what had happened but all of them were aware of the fact that there was something wrong.

The situation with Roderic at dinner had been quite problematic already. And the boy wouldn’t stop asking questions, Rodolphus knew him well enough.

They wouldn’t be able to keep this up forever. Even small things like Roxy’s dream reminded him of that.

He didn’t know what to do to prevent the disaster either however. If Neville turned against the Dark Lord’s regime completely, would he do what Rodolphus had done himself and use his gift against them? Rodolphus didn’t really believe it but you could never be sure.

He’d be able to hide the fact that he had known more, that wasn’t the problem but he wanted to prevent harm for Bellatrix, Rabastan or the children.

 

“Rodolphus, what are you doing here?” Bellatrix was standing in the doorway. “Don’t you want to come upstairs?”

“I’ve just been thinking,” he said closing the drawer with the various wands.

Bellatrix didn’t ask what he had been thinking about. She had learned that she wouldn’t receive an answer to this question.

Rodolphus followed her upstairs to their bedroom.

He’d try to figure out a solution tomorrow or, more likely, he’d put it all away to the back of his mind again.  


	5. Not Quite Right

Alice awoke to the singing of birds. The sun was shining into her room. She got up and opened the window to let the cool morning air in. A night without nightmares, she had to be grateful for the little things in life.  
It was better since she had met the Order. She knew now that she was not alone, not the only one who had survived in a world of Death Eaters. She smiled slightly when she remembered their meetings. Remus was still here as well and he had even found love. Andromeda’s daughter, a spirited and kind young woman.  
Why Andromeda had chosen the name Nymphadora, Alice could not understand however. It was a traditional name of the Black family carrying the memories of old tales half-forgotten. Frank had shared a few of them with her but she had never completely understood. Had Andromeda never gotten over what she had given up? It must be hard to turn your back onto your entire family. Her love to Ted however had been stronger and probably saved her from the fate of her Death Eater sisters. He was dead for almost nine years now and she had nothing left but her daughter living in secret.  
So many lives had been destroyed by this war.

Alice made her way to the bathroom. The woman staring back at her from the mirror was a stranger.  
Alice had always struggled with her weight, always felt a bit ashamed when standing next to pretty, slender people like Lily Potter. The woman in the mirror was very thin but it didn’t make her look good.  
Alice had always had auburn hair and rosy cheeks, hair and skin of the mirror woman were eerily pale. Not even Frank’s Aunt Callidora who was almost 100 years old had hair so white,  
Whenever she left the house, she wanted to hide behind a long coat and a hood. She didn’t want anyone to see how ugly she was.  
And yet, Remus and Molly and all the other people from the order didn’t seem to care. To them, she was still Alice as if nothing had ever changed. To them, she was a hero.  
If they knew about the end of her torture they’d feel differently. The memory came unbidden, as those memories always did.  
She had begged for mercy. Begged for mercy! No one but a coward would do that. If she had known anything, she would have told them at this point. Frank had done no such thing but she would have betrayed everything. If the others from the Order knew, they’d feel so disgusted about her. They wouldn’t want her around. They wouldn’t entrust her with their secret whereabouts anymore.  
She felt so repulsive herself. She couldn’t bear to remember but she couldn’t get it out of her head either. It would remain there forever.  
She felt sick, so very sick. At least, the toilet was near. She fell to her knees in front of it. Spit it all out. She couldn’t, not really but it forced her to think of something else. She flushed the toilet and her head was empty of the memories as well.  
For the moment.

Shaking all over she got up again and went to the sink, rinsing her mouth.  
It hadn’t ended there.  
Everyone acted as if those fifteen years at St.Mungo Hospital had never existed. They had existed and she remembered them, remembered them too well.  
The Healers had given her a wide variety of potions. Alice knew what those potions had been supposed to do. It had been the standard treatment for Cruciatus curse patients in the past. Keep the patient calm, keep relapses from happening, make her life a bit less miserable.  
They were not doing any of these things.  
The potions were completely ineffective against the effects of the Cruciatus curse. The only thing they did do was making her weaker and keeping her away from the memories which painful as they were might offer a short glimpse of the truth. Worst of all however, they had trapped her in her own mind, unable to talk, scream, or communicate with the outside world in any other way.  
Safe for the chewing gum wrappers. She had found them in the pockets of one of her robes and had used them to give messages to Neville and anyone else she felt she had once known. No one had given her anything to write with, so there had been only one thing she had been able to do; scratch her own skin and write in blood. Help me; help us or just help she had written.  
There was one thing she hadn’t been able to remember however. The wrappers had been charmed so they could safely trade messages for the Order this way. Only tapping them with a wand in a certain rhythm would allow you to read what was written there.  
Neville hadn’t known of course and he had never shown them to anyone who did.

During some of the time, she had been living in some sort of dream world in her own head. Alice couldn’t remember this part very well. It was a bit like the dreams she had at night and forgot the next morning, sometimes pleasant, sometimes haunting but never quite clear. There had been attacks of fear caused by she didn’t know what as well. Due to the potions’ effects no one ever knew about them. She had had to deal with them all alone.  
The same went for the relapses of pain. They hadn’t affected her body because of the potions but to her mind it hadn’t made any difference.  
Sometimes, she had been aware of her surroundings. These moments could have been triggered by a smell, a sound or the presence of certain people such as Neville. She hadn’t known who she was or who they were but she had known that she was in a room with pale yellow walls and many beds with other people in them. These had been the moment when she had written her messages.  
After a while she had always drifted back into this state between dreams and pain. Sometimes she was still scared that it might happen again. Especially at night. She didn’t like dreaming anymore and was grateful for any night without a dream.  
She never wanted to experience this again. Not this horrible feeling of being trapped in her own mind, trying to find a way to escape before being given another potion that made all the efforts useless, unable to communicate any of this to the outside world. It had been like a second torture.  
Yes, she was angry at them.  
There were times when she wondered if they really hadn’t known what they were doing to her.

She heard footsteps on the stairs. “Mum, are you alright?”  
She was not alright but there was no point in telling him. Especially not in the morning when he was heading off to work.  
“Yes, I’m coming,” Alice said. Thinking of breakfast made her feel slightly sick again. She went downstairs despite of this.  
Neville was waiting for her at the bottom of the stair. He gave her a worried look. “What’s wrong?”  
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” she told him.  
Alice definitely wasn’t going to tell him how the years at the hospital had really been. There was no need for him to know. It would only make him feel guilty about things he couldn’t have changed. She didn’t want to tell him about her earlier memory either of course. It had slipped away almost completely again, a fact for which she was grateful.  
The rest of the family was already seated around the table. Hannah gave her a slight smile before turning back to Francis. She tried to tell him to eat his cornflakes in a less messy manner. So far, her success had been limited.  
Alice took a spoon full of oatmeal and poured a bit of milk over it. Slowly, she started to eat. Breakfast was always the worst meal of the day. She was glad if she got anything down at all.  
Neville was watching her with a worried look on his face. Alice knew what he was thinking. He used to tell her that she needed to eat more but by now he had understood that she couldn’t.  
“Gran, will you go to the playground with us later?” Francis asked. “The weather’s really nice and everything.” He grinned.  
“Yes, I’d like to go too,” Deborah added.  
Alice sighed deeply. She never felt like leaving the house to go into the Death Eater-ruled public but most of the time, she was better after she had made herself do it.  
“Alright. After your lessons,” she said. The children at least were looking happy.

The lessons went quite well. Alice had never considered the idea that she might be a good teacher but it did work out quite well. Teaching also took her mind off other things.  
Francis and Deborah both wanted to learn something most of the time which made it easier of course.  
The children were quite good at reading and writing but struggled with anything related to numbers. She needed to explain any new calculation method many times before they finally did grasp it. When they had done so, they never forgot it again though.  
Alice also told the children about the most important plants and mushrooms. This usually turned into a practical lesson in the rich Longbottom garden. Both children knew very well which plants were poisonous such as the dark Belladonna berries growing in the shades of trees or the Medea’s Leaf vines which Neville was cultivating for use in healing potions. The leaves of this plant contained a strong contact poison while the berries would mess with your mind.  
During Alice’s Hogwarts days the use of the berries had been quite fashionable. Alice had tried them only once and been lucky; the things she had seen had been really weird but not too disturbing. Other people had lived through their worst nightmares or poisoned themselves with an overdose which had finally led to a ban of the plant at Hogwarts.  
Neville was making memory-stimulating potions out of some parts of the juice now. The potion which had finally opened up the way back had contained some of it as well.  
Alice also let the children cook both because she believed that they needed to be able to do this without the help of a House Elf and because it was good training for potion making. She didn’t want them to face the struggles both Frank and Neville had gone through in this subject.  
The most problematic field was History of Magic. Alice knew quite well that the Death Eaters’ take on this was very different from anything she had learned at school. Therefore she only outlined the most important past events and avoided the more recent history completely. She didn’t want to get the children into trouble.

Magical knowledge was a less controversial field. Alice told them about some of the most basic facts about magical theory and showed them a few spells. Augusta Longbottom’s former wand served her surprisingly well. Sometimes, she was asking herself if Frank’s mother and wife had had more in common than they had believed during their living years. Working with unfamiliar wands had been one of the very first lessons in Auror training. The danger of losing your wand was always present in this profession and an Auror who couldn’t use his or her full potential anymore after that was a problem.  
Still, it wasn’t her own. The sacrifice of the Phoenix lady had been in vain just like Alice’s own. A young, rash Mr Ollivander had captured the wild Phoenix and tried to take her feathers by magic when she refused to give any to him. Each of those feathers had turned to dust as soon as his fingers had touched it.  
Only when he finally realised the wrong he had done and let her go, he found one single red and gold feather in his lap. He had used it for a wand made of poplar which had never found a suitable owner until Alice had come into the shop.  
From the first day, Alice had found this story disturbing in a way. She knew that there was no real reason for that. Dragon heart string wands like Augusta’s even required the death of the magical creature. Knowing this didn’t change her feelings however. Looking back at it in hindsight it felt almost like a bad omen.  
She hadn’t believed anything like this as a girl and young woman but she had always treated the wand with great respect because she had wanted to show the Phoenix the respect she had deserved but not received in the past. Alice didn’t really want to imagine this wand in the hands of Rodolphus Lestrange. The Phoenix would surely be disappointed because Alice hadn’t taken better care.  
She put Augusta’s wand away and ended the magical part of the lesson. Francis and Deborah looked disappointed when they had to turn to maths but it was necessary and Alice wasn’t sure what her magic might do if she was feeling so messed up.  
When the children had both completed a rather difficult division task successfully, Alice ended the lesson. “You’ve done really well. Now we can go to the playground,” she told them.  
Francis and Deborah jumped from their seats to get their cloaks. Alice slipped into her own one and pulled the hood over her head until her eerily white hair was hidden almost completely.  
She told Sandy that they were out, took the children by the hand apparated with them from their front door towards the nearest magical playground.

The magical playgrounds had sandboxes and climbing frames like Muggle playgrounds. The latter wouldn’t have been possible that way without the help of magic however. There were also spells that kept children who fell down from injuring themselves. Hannah who’s Ministry department was responsible for the playground had told Alice and Neville all about it. She was quite impressed by the idea, another thing which allowed the Death Eaters to win sympathies among the people.  
The playground had some purely magical attractions as well, among them toy brooms for example which were almost like real ones, only charmed so they wouldn’t fly to high or throw the children off. Francis ran towards these right away. He wanted a broom of his own but Neville and Hannah thought that he was too young for that. Neville’s own flying experience hadn’t been too great and he was worried about injuries as well.  
Deborah started to play with the sand, trying to build some sort of castle. Alice settled down on an empty bench. The air smelled of spring and birds were flying around. The first green leaves and blossoms were visible in the trees and hedges around the playground. Alice took a deep breath and tried not to think about anything other than the wonders of nature awakening again each year.

A little girl with bushy black hair came running towards Deborah and the two were hugging each other.  
“Hi Roxy,” Deborah said and cast a nervous look into Alice’s direction. The other girl was looking at her as well now.  
“Hello,” she said and then her dark eyes widened. “You are Deborah’s Gran.” She was staring at Alice as if she had seen a Dementor or something similar.  
Alice took a deep breath. It wasn’t surprising that her battered appearance was frightening the child.  
“Yes, that’s my Gran,” Deborah said. “Gran, that’s Roxy. We’re friends.”  
There was a slightly guilty look on her face as if she had been caught doing something forbidden. Francis was watching the entire seen from above, sitting on his broom.  
“Roxana, you’re not supposed to run of like that. And no such displays of emotion in public! This isn’t appropriate behaviour for a pureblood Lady,” a woman’s voice said.  
Alice turned around to see who was talking. It was a tall, blonde witch with a slightly haughty demeanour, accompanied by two boys, one blond, the other one dark-haired.  
Alice knew who the dark-haired one was. She had met him at Flourish and Blotts. The girl, Roxana, must be his sister. So this was why Deborah seemed so awkward about being seen with her.  
The witch was easy to recognise as well, Narcissa Malfoy accompanied by her younger son Arcturus. He was supposed to restart the Black family line. His pale-blond hair looked exactly like that of a Malfoy however.

“I’m not a lady. Muggles are ladies. I’m a witch,” Roxana said.  
Narcissa shook her head, wished Alice a good morning and walked towards the bench next to her. The young Death Eater woman Alice had seen at Gringotts was sitting there.  
“May I?” Narcissa asked. The younger woman didn’t object.  
At least they weren’t here with their parents, Alice thought. She had never liked Narcissa too much but the woman was polite enough and had never participated in the Death Eaters’ crimes personally.  
“Shall I show you how to fly?” Roxana asked Deborah.  
Neville’s daughter didn’t seem to be too keen on that. Unlike her brother, she wasn’t really interested in Quidditch.  
“Come on, it’s really fun. And you can’t fall down from these brooms here.”  
“Okay.”  
The two girls walked off towards the brooms, Roxana seemed to be quite keen to get out of Alice’s sight. She had no idea why that would be and didn’t think she wanted to know.

Francis had noticed this as well. He landed right next to Roderic. “You’re sister’s really stupid you know,” he said. “She’s scared of my Gran.”  
He really shouldn’t be as rude as that, Alice thought. She’d definitely tell him later but not in front of the other children.  
“Don’t you call my sister stupid,” Roderic responded brandishing a wooden stick he had been holding.  
“But she is.”  
“And what about your sister? She’s a Squib, isn’t she?”  
Francis was glaring at him, his hands forming a fist. “She’s not! Apologise for this.”  
“I won’t.”  
“You will!”  
“No!”  
“Debbie is not a Squib! Apologise!”  
“The next word he used made Alice feel as if her stomach had suddenly filled with cold water.  
“Imperio!”  
How could he say that? Where had he heard about this kind of curse?  
Roderic’s eyes narrowed. “How dare you!” he shouted and then the word she dreaded so much. “Crucio!”  
Frozen with shock Alice watched how her grandson’s face contorted with pain before his legs gave way underneath him. Francis was screaming in pain, Roderic standing over him, the stick in his hand like a wand.  
As soon as she could move again, Alice drew her own wand and spoke the counter spell. Narcissa had jumped to her feet, stepping on the hem of her cloak in a rather unladylike way, and ran towards the two boys.  
Alice’s voice shook so much she could hardly understand herself but for some reason it still worked. The effects of the curse seemed to be gone. Only moments later, Narcissa grabbed her nephew by the shoulders.  
“Roderic, what have you done!” she shouted. “Why did you do that again? You know you mustn’t do this!”

Francis scrambled to his feet right away. He looked shaken but otherwise unharmed. Alice got up to meet him. Her feet were barely carrying her.  
“Are you alright?” she whispered.  
“Yes, I am,” Francis said. “I didn’t think he could do something like that.”  
Alice forced herself to breathe calmly. Everything was okay, Francis hadn’t been harmed. Roderic probably didn’t have the magical power to do this anyway. Not yet.  
“Come with me and sit down for a moment,” Alice told Francis and they both walked back to their bench.  
Narcissa was still telling Roderic off.  
“Dad said you shouldn’t shout at me for using accidental magic,” the boy said.  
Alice wasn’t surprised to hear that Rodolphus thought this kind of thing was alright.  
“Accidental magic?” the young Death Eater said. “This was not an accident boy.”  
“Do you want to go home?” Alice asked Francis. She almost hoped he’d say yes. She didn’t really want to stay here among these people.  
“No, Gran it’s okay. I was startled, that was all. If I leave now, he thinks I’m scared of him.”  
Alice did feel a bit of pride for him. Maybe Francis would carry on the Gryffindor legacy. There were a few things she had to make clear though.  
“Alright. But listen to me Francis: Roderic should never have done this. What you did before wasn’t okay either though. You tried to use the Imperius curse on him. This is an evil dark curse as well. It steals people’s free will and forces them to do things they don’t want to do. This is very wrong. Those curses weren’t called unforgivable for fun, Francis. They’re not toys.”  
“I’m sorry Gran. I didn’t know that. I only heard that you can make people do what you want with this. I was so angry when Roderic called Debbie a Squib.”  
“I can understand this,” Alice told him. “You shouldn’t have called his sister stupid either though.”  
“Really? She’s scared of you. Why would anyone be scared of you?”  
“I don’t know that but we should never make fun of other people because they’re scared. There are many things we’re all scared of as well,” Alice told him.  
“Okay,” Francis said. “I’m not going to do it anymore.”  
“Good.”  
“Can I go back and play with Turus and the others?”  
“Yes, you can,” Alice said, glad that the entire thing didn’t seem to have bothered Francis too much. Probably she and Narcissa as well had been overreacting a bit. Roderic wasn’t able to perform the real Cruciatus curse at his age and without a wand.

“You know Lisa; I’ve seen it right away. There’s something wrong with the boy. He’s just not quite right,” Narcissa was telling the Death Eater woman at the moment. Roderic was still standing beside them.  
Lisa was clearly unsure what to say. She worked for Roderic’s mother after all. Therefore she decided to remain silent and leave Narcissa to her ramblings.  
“I can’t understand this, I really can’t understand it. My own sister has given birth to a monster. Maybe it would have been better if they had never had children after all”  
Alice swallowed. What a cruel thing to say in front of a child.  
Roderic didn’t cry, he didn’t shout at them, he didn’t come up with a witty remark and he didn’t walk away either. He simply stood there, his mouth forming a thin line, his eyes staring into nothingness.  
This wasn’t going to do any good. He’d never understand it like this. She had to do something.  
“Roderic”  
The boy turned around, looking at her. “Good morning Mrs Longbottom,” he said, making a few steps towards her. He took a deep breath and said. “Back then before the War you would have taken me to Azkaban for this, wouldn’t you?”  
Alice was surprised that he knew about her former occupation and about Azkaban.  
“Children were never sent to Azkaban,” she said. “You haven’t learned to control your magic yet. We would have talked to your parents.”  
And kept an eye on them, Alice added in her mind. The Aurors would have assumed that there was something wrong in the family if something like this had happened.  
“I see,” he said, talking a few more steps towards her.  
“Do you want to sit down with me?” she asked, pointing at the space where Francis had been sitting before.  
Roderic nodded and sat down.  
“Do you know why the thing you have done was wrong?” Alice asked him.  
“I didn’t really think anything would happen,” Roderic said. “Dad told me about the Cruciatus curse and it sounded rather difficult. Not like something that would happen just like that if you say the spell. I felt insulted because Francis said the Imperius curse and I wanted to do the same.”  
“That wasn’t the answer to my question. Do you know why it was wrong?” Alice felt almost as if she had slipped back into her old Auror personality after saying these words. She was a bit ashamed of that. He was only a child and it was pathetic to try and exercise any kind of power over him because of her feelings towards the boy’s parents.  
Roderic did answer this time. “Yes, I do. I’m not supposed to hurt other people. And it’s dangerous dark magic.”

“That’s right,” Alice said, surprised that someone had tried to teach him the “I’m not supposed to hurt other people” part. “You have to understand that the Cruciatus curse causes much more than just pain.”  
Roderic was looking at his feet. “Yes. Dad did tell me that too,” he muttered having no idea what these words were doing to Alice.  
Rodolphus knew, he knew it all. This wasn’t really new to her of course but she preferred to forget it normally. He hadn’t only wanted answers, he had known exactly what she was going to go through, knew what she was going through now and he had wanted it all. At every moment, he had known what he was doing to her and chosen to do it.  
“Mrs Longbottom, is something wrong? Do you need help from a Healer? There’s a Portkey to St.Mungo’s here.”  
Roderic’s voice managed to pull her back into the present, ashamed that there was nothing she could get done without any memories. She quickly looked for her own children. Deborah was flying with Roxy while Francis had joined the others in some martial-looking game.  
“No, no, it’s alright,” she said quickly, recovering herself. “I wanted to ask you why you did it. You did even though you knew you shouldn’t. Why?”  
Roderic sighed. “I was angry because I had to stay with Narcissa. And angry at Francis because he insulted Roxy. And because he said this curse to me. I hate it when someone tries to force me to do something.”  
“I can understand that,” Alice said. “I told Francis that this was wrong as well.”  
She was going to give them a lesson about dark magic soon. So far, she had stayed away from that because of Deborah but when Francis started to do stuff like that he needed to learn more. The two children were still playing without any trouble.  
“It still doesn’t give you the right to-“

“I know,” Roderic said. “It’s just, every time I’m angry, I feel like hurting the person who made me angry. And, and sometimes, it connects with my magic somehow and it really happens.”  
“This wasn’t the first time?” Alice asked trying not to show him how alarmed she was by this.  
“It was the second,” Roderic admitted. “The second time where it happened with a person. It happens with animals too sometimes. Please don’t tell Mum or Aunt Narcissa.”  
“I won’t,” Alice said. She didn’t talk to Narcissa about things like that and neither to Bellatrix of course.  
This was really disturbing though. She could understand Narcissa’s feelings in a way now even though she should never have said it in front of the boy. Maybe people like them really shouldn’t have children for various reasons. Alice didn’t believe that a child could be born evil though. Roderic clearly wasn’t, he was too thoughtful for that.  
“People know about this,” he said. “And they hate me for it. Narcissa and all the Malfoys really hate me. The Notts hate me too. Dad says it’s normal though. He thinks there’s no need to worry about it. I can’t really believe this though.”  
“You’re quite right,” Alice said wondering if Bellatrix of all people was the one who actually tried to teach him some morals. “This is not normal. You shouldn’t worry about it though. You have to make sure that this doesn’t happen again. You mustn’t speak this curse anymore, first of all. If you feel this way again, try to make yourself stop. Think about something else, you can count for example.”  
That was what they had been taught during Auror training when they had been taught the Unforgivable curses and also how not to get lost in them.  
“I think I should apologise to Francis,” Roderic said.  
Alice was pleasantly surprised that he thought about this on his own.  
“Yes, you should do this. He knows that he shouldn’t have talked about your sister like that too by now.”

“Good. My sister is one of the people who like me, you know,” Roderic said matter-of-factly. “My sister and my Dad. They’re the only people in the entire world who actually like me.”  
Alice swallowed as she heard those words. He must feel really lonely. Would he feel that way if he was really evil?  
“It must be really hard for you to feel that way but I don’t think it’s true,” she said. “What about your mother?”  
She could hardly imagine that Bellatrix would be so shocked by Roderic’s affinity for the Cruciatus curse.  
Roderic sighed. “Mum is very busy. She has hardly ever any time for us. And if she does, she spends it with Roxy. She loves her more than me. Probably because I’m asking so many questions. She doesn’t like that. No one does. But I simply need to know. I know everyone’s keeping so many secrets. And they’re never telling me the truth. Their answers don’t make any sense.”  
“What kind of questions are you asking?” Alice wanted to know.  
“About all kinds of things. Dark magic, Muggles and Muggleborns, the War, the Dark Lord, where babies come from.”  
Alice had to keep herself from laughing at the last point on his list  
“These are all difficult subjects,” she said. “Things many people don’t like to talk about. Especially not in front of children. Sometimes knowing the answers can be dangerous for you. Or it will bother you because you can’t understand it yet. Sometimes, the adults are just too embarrassed to talk about it; sometimes it’s something personal no one else is supposed to know.”

“Dad told me something like this too,” Roderic said. “You’re really like him in a way.”  
Alice flinched at these words. What was he thinking? He didn’t know what this meant to her of course she told herself. From him, it was probably supposed to be a compliment. Hadn’t he said something about his father and sister being the only people in the world who liked him?  
“I really don’t understand why you don’t get along with each other,” Roderic added.  
Alice thought that he should be able to guess the truth by now with all the facts that he had assembled. Maybe you simply didn’t want to believe something like that about your own parents. She would not tell him here. Maybe some other time and place but not on a public playground with his aunt listening.  
Roderic didn’t seem to expect any answers himself. “Francis was right in a way,” he said. “We really don’t have to be scared of you. I think Roxy was scared because of all this stuff about you having been an Auror.”  
“What did your parents tell you about Aurors?” she asked. Maybe there was some misinformation she could correct.  
“Well, they told us that the Aurors were fighting for the Old Ministry and against them. They put people into prison and could kill them as well if they wanted to. Azkaban was guarded by Dementors back then so that the prisoners would always be miserable and couldn’t think of escaping. The food was bad too but Dad says it wasn’t worse than the food at St.Mungo’s back then. He thinks it was the same food.”  
This was relatively close to the truth, Alice thought. The purpose of Azkaban had been just that even though most people hadn’t liked to admit it openly, not even to themselves. She didn’t know about the food though. She had never eaten in Azkaban and while at St.Mungo’s she hadn’t really known what she was eating.

“Why did you fight against the Death Eaters?” Roderic asked.  
Alice sighed. This was one of those questions she couldn’t really answer easily. He didn’t know about the entire Muggle-born issue, he had never met one. Roderic probably didn’t know about the Death Eater crimes either. Without this information it was hardly possible to explain what they had been fighting for. She couldn’t put everything Roderic had ever learned in question on one morning and she didn’t want to do this in a public place either. Therefore she thought of a diplomatic version.  
“They fought against the Ministry and wanted to rule the Magical Community themselves. It’s what they’re doing know. We didn’t want that because we thought the Old Ministry was alright the way it was. We also didn’t agree with many things the Death Eaters wanted. You really can’t understand most of this though. You don’t know about those old arguments and explaining them all would take too long now.”  
“Maybe another time,” Roderic said. “Will you visit us along with Neville sometime?”  
“I’m sorry Roderic but I can’t do this. You could visit us though. If your parents don’t mind.” Alice was sure that Neville had no objections. He was meeting the entire Lestrange family on a regular basis after all.  
“I’m going to ask them,” Roderic said.

“We have to leave now, Roderic.” Narcissa stood beside them.  
“We have to leave already?”  
“Yes. I told you we couldn’t stay long. I’m waiting for news from Draco.”  
“Okay. I’ll tell Roxy. I need to apologise to Francis first though.”  
He ran off, Alice was glad that he remembered that he was supposed to apologise. He obviously had listened to the things she had told him.  
With a smile Narcissa turned to her “I’ll soon be a grandmother as well, you now.”  
“That’s great for your family,” Alice said. “Do you know if it’s going to be a boy or a girl?”  
“Not yet. Doesn’t really matter one way or the other, does it? Having both at once is nice too of course.”  
“Yes, it is,” Alice said. Hannah hadn’t been too glad when heard that she was getting twins but by now she had come to appreciate it. Only one pregnancy for both children she was supposed to have.  
“I want to thank you, by the way,” Narcissa said. “You’ve handled this really well with Roderic. For me, it’s so hard to deal with this kind of behaviour from him. It should be much harder for you but took care of him even though he isn’t even family for you. Thank you.”  
“You’re welcome,” Alice said. “I don’t think you should have said these things front of him though. About him being a monster that shouldn’t have been born.” She felt the need to address this, no matter what Narcissa thought.  
The youngest Black sister sighed deeply. “You’re right. I shouldn’t say that. But I simply don’t know how to deal with this. The only thing his magic has ever done is hurting people and animals. He has no sense for politeness and other people’s feelings at all. It’s not normal. No other child I’ve known has ever been like this. I don’t know where he’s got that from.”

If this was supposed to be a joke, it was a bad one, Alice thought. She didn’t say those words aloud but Narcissa seemed to have guessed them.  
“Children should be innocent,” she said. “You probably can’t believe it, no one can, but Bella once was too. Roderic however, it seems as if he were born that way.”  
She drew a bit closer and said almost in a whisper. “Sometimes I’m wondering if he could not be the Dark Lord’s.” She was shivering slightly. Alice too thought that the mental image was quite disturbing. “Other people have thought that too,” Narcissa added. “He wouldn’t even be quite human then, would he? The son of a man who has been dead for thirteen years and has undergone so many dark magic transformations.”  
When she had met Roderic for the first time, Alice had thought that he resembled Rodolphus quite closely. Maybe this had just been her imagination though. Maybe she had actually spoken with the son of Lord Voldemort. Still, she couldn’t imagine this.  
“Do you really think he’d want a son? Doesn’t he want to be immortal himself?”  
“I don’t know,” Narcissa said. “But it would explain it.”

Alice remembered the look on Roderic’s face when Narcissa had said those cruel words. She hadn’t realised it then but he had reminded her of a young Rodolphus very much in this moment. Maybe Narcissa would be a bit less uncomfortable with her nephew if she stopped believing he was Voldemort’s son.  
“Did you know the Lestrange brothers as children?” she asked.  
Narcissa shook her head. “They preferred to keep to themselves, the Lestranges. Probably thought that no one else was pure enough.” Her expression made it clear that she found this idea very offensive.  
“Or they didn’t want anyone to know how magic showed itself in their children,” Alice suggested.  
Narcissa looked thoughtful.  
“Roderic told me that his father says this was supposed to be normal,” Alice added. “Maybe it is, to them.”  
“This is possible of course,” Narcissa said slowly. “Rodolphus keeps saying that we’re supposed to accept this but I don’t think this can be right. But maybe, if it keeps happening in their family... I should ask him.”  
“Ask what?”  
Roderic had returned, accompanied by his sister and nephew.  
“Ask your father if he had similar things happening to him when he was your age,” Narcissa informed him to Alice’s surprise.  
“We have to leave now,” she said to Alice. “Thank you for looking after him. You’re a remarkable woman indeed, Alice.”  
“You’re flattering me,” Alice said. Remarkable wasn’t on the list of words she’d use to describe herself.  
“She’s telling the truth. I’d really like to have you for my grandmother,” Roderic said.  
“It would surely do you some good,” Narcissa said. “But things are the way they are.”  
That was true and Alice feared that Roderic would never get a chance to make the right choice.  
The potential was there, she didn’t doubt that for a second, but given who his parents were, he’d probably never get the chance to grow up into a decent person.  
Maybe, just maybe, the answer to one of his many questions would lead him upon the right path though.  
People who asked too many questions weren’t the people Lord Voldemort wanted as followers. 


	6. Unpleasant Conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for your kind comments.  
> I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far.

Gilderoy Lockhart grinned broadly. “I don’t believe it. Neville Longbottom, the clumsy little boy has become a Healer. I remember very well how you’ve been hung on the chandelier by those Pixies. Your face was as white as snow.”  
“I’m glad that you’re able to remember your past so well again,” Neville said through clenched teeth. “Healer Jones will be with you soon to discuss the next steps that have to be taken. Have a nice day.”  
He quickly left the Janus Thickey-Ward. It was silly to be so upset about this he knew it, but he still couldn’t help it. Lockhart’s words had awoken some of his own memories. Memories of his miserable first years at Hogwarts. No one had ever known how lonely he had been back then and no one had cared. The other students had pitied and tolerated him at best, bullied him at worst. The one who was always left behind when they had to work together in class. His family had almost killed him to find out if he was magical.  
Only when he had started to get himself into dangerous situations they had begun to respect him. Still, even after the DA Harry had all but ignored him all through sixth year.

The knock on Lestrange’s office door was harder than it should have been. There was a slight hint of surprise in the Death Eater’s voice when he told Neville to come in.  
“Good morning, Neville. What’s the matter? Did something go wrong with Lockhart’s potion?”  
Neville returned the greeting. “No. It worked perfectly. Hardly any side effects.”  
Lockhart hadn’t suffered anything worse than a cold without the running nose.   
“May I ask you what’s made you so agitated in this case?” Lestrange asked.  
“Agitated, me?” Neville asked looking down himself. He still hadn’t learned to hide his feelings properly.  
Lestrange smiled slightly. “You made it sound as if you wanted to break the door down.”  
“My apologies,” Neville said. “It’s nothing of importance, really. Lockhart’s just fond of spreading some stories from school. My second year wasn’t really my best. It’s foolish to care about something like that, isn’t it? After everything that’s happened since.”  
“Not at all,” Lestrange said. “You’re not the only one who’s still struggling with the memories of his Hogwarts times. Ask Professor Snape about his own sometime. Or rather do not; he’d probably take it badly.”  
Neville could hardly imagine Snape as clueless and ignored student. If he truly knew what it was like, he should have treated him better.

“Let’s move to a more pleasant subject, shall we?”  
“Yes, certainly,” Neville said, wandering what the pleasant subject could be.  
“I’ve found you an apprentice. Her name’s Dorothy Prewett, a former Gryffindor.”  
“That’s good news indeed,” Neville said.   
Lestrange wanted to carry out the job interviews himself and he seemed to be very hard to please. So far, he hadn’t come across a suitable candidate for the Spell Damage department.   
“So you think she’s the right one for the job?”  
“I’m quite certain. Not unlike you, she’s very fond of Herbology and was able to explain well, why this subject is vital for being a successful Healer. She’s the niece of Lancelot Prewett and has helped take care of him during the Yaxley-period.”  
“Oh yes, I remember her now,” Neville said.   
Lancelot Prewett had been tortured by Yaxley, Rowle and Dolohov because he had refused to carry out some order from the Death Eaters. His family had taken care of him himself until it had become known that there was a cure available for the after effects of the Cruciatus curse. Neville had been able to help Mr Prewett and met his young niece as well. She had reminded him a bit of himself.   
He remembered very well how he had felt when he had been able to offer the help he had longed for but never received when he had been this age himself. Moments like these had made him feel that the truce with the Death Eaters had been worth it.  
“Reading between the lines I got the impression that you’re one of the major reasons for her decision to come here,” Lestrange said. “Her marks have been highly satisfying as well though. I’m sure you’re going to get along well.”  
“Yes, I’ll do my best,” Neville said. The idea of being a teacher himself did frighten him a bit as did the thought of someone admiring him as Lestrange had implied. He had never done anything special, only his job. 

“Do you wish me to teach her about the cure for the Cruciatus curse as well?” Neville asked.  
“As quickly as possible if she does well,” Lestrange said. “I don’t think it’s wise to keep this knowledge between the two of us for much longer. I hope it will work out. She doesn’t seem to be very comfortable with the subject matter.”  
“Most people aren’t,” Neville said.  
“You’re right of course,” Lestrange said.   
Neville asked himself why passing on this knowledge had suddenly become so important to Lestrange.   
Neville only had a chance to find out if he asked.  
“May I ask why this is so important to you all of a sudden? Is there some sort of threat?”  
Lestrange gave him a grave look. “Yes, there is. The situation in Germany is becoming increasingly bothersome. You know about those new Grindewald supporters. They’re not only fighting against their government but also against our people gathering there. And they rely heavily upon the Cruciatus curse at the moment. When we took care of Mia Kramer it was something like a declaration of war, as strange as this may sound. We have probably both become targets for them.”  
Neville took a deep breath. The last thing he needed was another group of dark wizards after himself and his family. The situation inside Great Britain was difficult enough without the addition of an outside threat.   
“The codices of healing magic demand us to help anyone who asks for our help,” Neville said. “It hasn’t been anything political.” 

“By sending me, the Dark Lord turned it into something political,” Lestrange said. “They’ve probably assumed you’d be a Death Eater as well. Guilty by association, no matter how much you dislike the idea.”  
Neville did indeed dislike this idea. He really didn’t want to be blamed for Lestrange’s crimes which had not least been committed against his own family members.   
It had never occurred to him that he might endanger himself and much worse his family by agreeing to help little Mia.   
“You’ve probably heard that the Dark Lord will soon be travelling to the continent with Bellatrix and a few of her people,” Lestrange said. “It’s a diplomatic mission of course but they’re also going to test the waters there. We’ll know more about it all when they’re back.”  
“Are you going to tell me?” Neville asked.  
“Certainly. You’re involved in this as well.”  
Neville sighed. He didn’t like that but it probably was a fact he couldn’t deny.

Lestrange looked at him. “There’s something else, Neville. The Dark Lord has become far more clement than he used to be during the war. It’s still not impossible that we might find ourselves on the wrong side of him for some reason though. You probably know what I’m talking about.”  
Neville felt as if his blood had turned to ice. Lestrange couldn’t know about the Order, could he? No, that was quite impossible. If he did, he wouldn’t sit here calmly talking to him.   
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Neville said.  
“Well, a few people have been questioning the continuing need for you to keep your mother under your guardianship,” Lestrange said. “You know that this was a temporary arrangement with the Dark Lord and not one that’s supposed to last for eight years. They think she should appeal for clemency with the Dark Lord and become an official citizen as his other former enemies have done.”  
Neville looked out of the window behind Lestrange’s chair. This was a little bit better than it would have been if Lestrange had found out about the Order but not much.   
“Would you mind telling me who “they” are?” Neville asked.   
If it was someone like Theodore and Daphne Nott he could talk to them. 

“Lisa Turpin has approached Bellatrix,” Lestrange answered without hesitation. “She decided that it falls into my department rather than hers and told me. I don’t know who the others are but Lisa supposedly said there were more.”  
Neville resorted to his Occlumeny skills so Lestrange didn’t find out what he was calling Lisa Turpin in his head. The former Ravenclaw had been against the Carrows like everyone else but she had changed her mind completely as soon as Lestrange had started teaching. Lisa had been one of the few people who had chosen to learn the Cruciatus curse and she had been quite “talented” in that field.   
Neville didn’t think that talking to her would be very promising.   
“Lisa believes that the same rules should apply for everyone and she does have a point,” Lestrange said. “Still, I didn’t think there was any need to bother the Dark Lord with that but you can’t be sure that it won’t reach him some other way.”  
I will never understand why some people can’t simply mind their own business, Neville thought angrily. His mother was still anything but healthy but how should he prove that to Voldemort? If he decided to give them trouble, he probably wouldn’t care anyway.  
“It’s difficult to predict how the Dark Lord’s going to react if he hears about this,” Lestrange said. “He might be satisfied if you bring him a certificate signed by one of your colleagues. The possibility that he’s going to want a trial of strength can’t be ruled out either though. She’s fought him three times as you probably know.”  
Neville did not know though he wasn’t going to admit that. Why couldn’t they simply leave his mother alone? She was miserable enough as it was.  
“He’d surely accept if she did appeal for clemency of her own choice though,” Lestrange said. “It would be the most sensible course of action. You know that the Dark Lord doesn’t ask for anything impossible.”

Neville remembered the day of his own “appeal for clemency” very well. He had to meet Voldemort in the presence of all the Death Eaters. Under their mocking and laughter he had to walk towards Voldemort, kneel down in front of him and declare his surrender. Afterwards he’d had to ask for Voldemort’s mercy. Two Death Eaters had to serve as witnesses, in Neville’s case it had been Lestrange and Snape.  
It had been the hardest day of Neville’s life so far. He had felt so treacherous. Neville had known that he only did this for the sake of appearances but this hadn’t changed his feelings very much. The triumph on the faces of people like the Carrows had made it all even worse. Neville had wanted nothing more than to shout at them all that he wasn’t going to play along and let Voldemort kill him.   
The thought of his mother and his grandmother who had been ill already had been the only thing which kept him from doing so. And the hope that he could become a Healer as well. If Neville wanted to be honest with himself, he had to admit that.  
Things had improved from this point and nowadays Neville was treated with respect by almost all the Death Eaters.   
Still, the idea of making his mother go through this as well made him physically sick. It would rob her of the last vestiges of self-respect she had left.   
Neville feared it would kill her.  
Was that what Lestrange wanted? But why all this fuss about trying to help her first in this case? Only to get Neville on his side? Did Lestrange really believe he’d remain there if it came to that?

“Neville?”  
Lestrange’s voice drew him away from those thoughts.  
“I assume that you’ve never attempted to get information about this before, is my suspicion correct?”  
Neville was wondering if he had managed to read his mind, despite of his Occlumency attempts.   
“Well, no, I didn’t think it was necessary,” Neville said.  
“I see. So you don’t know that the procedure has changed considerably either, do you? It’s a mere formality nowadays. The applicant has to speak with one of the marked Death Eaters and if he or she is considered honest, a declaration will be signed. It contains the same statements you’ve made to the Dark Lord directly. He doesn’t see any need to do this anymore. Instead, he just gives his okay, the declaration is kept at the Ministry and that was all. Usually, there will be a year of probation where the applicant will be closely watched but there probably won’t be any need for this in your mother’s case. She’s spent the last eight years here without causing any trouble after all.”  
If that was true, the situation was indeed quite different. Signing a declaration shouldn’t be completely impossible, should it?  
“You should at least discuss the possibility,” Lestrange added. “Look, the way things are now your mother is formally required to ask your permission for every major decision. She can neither take up a job nor become a member of any association or similar group. Do you really think this better than signing a piece of parchment to admit what is obvious anyway, that the Dark Lord has won this war?

Neville didn’t answer right away. He made sure to hide his thoughts very carefully now, if Lestrange found out about this, it could prove disastrous.   
Keeping his mother’s situation in life the way it was now permanently was far from optimal that much was true. She had never been really able to accept the new realities. In a way, she had still been living in the past during the last few years. All those pictures of people long gone, Neville didn’t even know most of those names when she mentioned them. Her life had mainly consisted of memories, almost only those of the worst kind. As if she had been living in her own personal Azkaban, though there had been neither Dementors nor walls to keep her there. The children had been her only link to life.   
During the last few months, this had changed a bit. She had made tentative journeys into the new magical society and she had met with the Order.   
Neville knew it was at least partly his fault that she had stayed in her prison for so long. He had never wanted to force her to into the Death Eaters’ society and he had tried to protect her from the dangers knowing about the Order would bring.   
These new developments from the Death Eaters’ side made one thing clear though, it was time to make a decision now. One possibility was to accept the Dark Lord’s victory, sign the declaration and try to find her place in the new society. The second possibility was a more dangerous one. She could choose against the new order and join her former allies in their secret struggles. Neville would make sure that she could find a way to escape if she chose this path.   
It was her decision.

“We’re going to discuss it when the right moment comes,” he said aloud. Whatever the outcome, he’d support his mother’s decision.  
There was one thing Neville still hoped for, at least if she did decide in favour of living in the Dark Lord’s wizarding Britain. It was reconciliation. Maybe she would find some form of closure if she knew that no one had the desire to harm her anymore. Neville looked at Lestrange and wished that he was able to look through him the same way Lestrange did it with him. Neville wanted his mother to believe that he had no desire to hurt, no to destroy her anymore, but he could never be quite sure about that himself.  
“You shouldn’t wait for the “right moment” too long.”  
They would wait as long as necessary, Neville thought but didn’t say it aloud. He would have to gather information beforehand so they could make an informed decision. Neville still didn’t know what exactly had happened that night. His mother never told him and the Memory Charm kept him from remembering.

“Do you want to hear how the Memory Potion worked with Lockhart?” Neville asked.  
Lestrange did seem slightly surprised at this sudden change of subject. Neville was relieved. This meant he had not followed everything he had been thinking about.   
Lestrange looked at the clock on the wall. “You’re right. My apologies for keeping you so long “  
Neville had been up all night and the meeting with Lestrange was the last thing on his schedule for this day.   
“No problem.”  
Neville informed Lestrange about the effects of the Memory Potion. “It worked really well,” he said in the end. “He fell asleep and when he woke up this morning; his memories were back to normal. I asked him a few questions as we had discussed and he was able to answer them all.”  
“I’m glad to hear it,” Lestrange said. “You should write a detailed report in this case.”  
“Of course,” Neville said.  
“Very well, if there’s nothing else you’d like to discuss-“

“Actually, there is,” Neville said, more nervously than he had thought. He didn’t like to tell Lestrange but there was no choice. He had to make the necessary examinations, Neville couldn’t do this himself and the others hadn’t worked with the Memory Potion yet.  
Lestrange gave him a questioning look. “What is it?”  
“Now that I’ve seen how the Memory Potion works, I decided that I’d like to try it myself. I don’t want to remain my forgetful self if I don’t have to, you see.”  
“That’s understandable,” Lestrange said. “Have you already decided which colleague you want to supervise it?”  
Neville was startled. He didn’t want to raise a fuss over it and he didn’t want to share the things he’d remember with anyone else. Neville was afraid of the reactions and questions this would provoke.   
“I thought I was going to take it at home,” he said.   
Lestrange gave him a doubtful look. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea. You won’t be able to help yourself if there are any side effects you.”  
“I’ll be able to cope with the side effects,” Neville said. He had gone through much worse than a slight headache and nausea on his own before.   
“Neville, a lack of sleep definitely seems to strengthen your unreasonable Gryffindor side,” Lestrange said. “I don’t really have to tell you that the lack of severe side effects in one person doesn’t mean that there will never be any, do I?”  
“I don’t see any reason why it should be different,” Neville said stubbornly, annoyed by Lestrange’s remark about his “unreasonable Gryffindor side”. “I don’t want to drag too many people into this.”   
“This Memory Charm has been cast on you long before your mind and magic were fully developed,” Lestrange said ignoring Neville’s remark. “This is very likely to make a difference as you should and probably do know. The same goes for your specific magic situation.”  
Neville sighed. This could be true of course but he didn’t really care. He was sure he’d be able to cope.   
“Will you get the signature of the spell for me?” he asked. “So I can make the potion.”  
He normally didn’t want Lestrange to use Legilimency on him but if he was warned, he could hide the things he didn’t want him to see more easily.

“Of course,” Lestrange said. “And if you really want to take the Potion alone, it’s your choice. I simply wanted to state that it’s not a very reasonable one. I did test your magic once when I started to teach you but we probably should do so again.”  
The magic test wasn’t very complicated if you knew what you were doing. Most people weren’t able to feel it at all; Neville could due to his training and grew a bit tense. He couldn’t see what Lestrange was seeing but he drew it onto a piece of parchment. Unlike last time Neville knew now how to read those symbols. There were more than there had been; they were intersecting in new ways as well. This was probably due to the new forms of magic he had learned as a Healer. He still noticed something distinctly odd about the pattern though. Right at the beginning, there was a blank part. All the strands of magic had grown around it as if it were an obstacle.  
“It doesn’t look quite right,” he said.  
“This is a symbol for the effects of the Memory Charm on your magic. I’ve told you what happened last time. The spell blocked the magic already there and when your magic developed further, it had to find a way around it. That’s why it took so long for your magic to show. When the charm’s removed, your magic has to readjust. There will probably be some accidental magic.”  
“Accidental magic?” Neville asked. He hadn’t expected anything like that but it made sense.  
“Yes. That’s another reason why you should better do it here where all those protective charms against this kind of thing are active.”  
Neville didn’t answer. He didn’t like the idea of accidental magic. It happened to other people but it had only happened to him once and even though he had never admitted it, he had been quite glad about that.  
“You’ll have to take a few days at least off work,” Lestrange told him.   
“I see. It probably won’t be as simple as I hoped,” Neville said. It was a bit disappointing but there was nothing he could do about it. He had to do it.

“Alright, will you let me have a look at the effects of the charm on your mind now?”  
Neville nodded and made sure to hide everything he needed to hide behind the necessary defence.  
“Why am I not surprised that you’re picturing your mind like a garden,” Lestrange said, obviously not expecting an answer.  
Neville was really imagining a garden. A garden with nice patches of flowers and vegetables as well as fruit trees but there were corners full of unchecked weeds and rotting plants as well. He wasn’t sure what any of that hid himself, a good method he had learned from a book during his seventh year.  
Lestrange didn’t bother to look; he seemed to walk through the garden with a clear goal in mind, the Memory Charm. Neville felt as if he were following him. He had never been to this part.  
Soon, they stood in front of a huge wall that seemed to rise up into the sky. There were cracks in the wall and some parts seemed to be made of a different material. Things were creeping through some of the cracks.   
Neville stared at them in horror.   
They looked like vines that had blackened under some sort of poison or disease but they weren’t dead. These things had grown around other plants which came through the wall as well, green, flowering plants. The black ones almost throttled them.   
The sight made panic course through Neville’s body. He wanted to run away, hide from this. The black vines were creeping after him, following him. No matter how far he ran, he couldn’t get away from them. He was running in circles, and they were always behind him, almost touching.  
“Stop running. Turn around and face it,” Lestrange said but Neville couldn’t do so.   
“You’re a Gryffindor. You’re brave enough for this.”  
Gryffindor? Yes, he was a Gryffindor. No matter what happened, he needed to do it. Neville turned around looking at the vine, his body frozen with fear. It crept over his body and seemingly into his head.

Neville was walking through a forest, his mother beside him. He was either very small or the trees very large. The leaves were showing first signs of red and yellow, it must be early autumn. It was raining slightly. Neville walked towards a large white mushroom standing there alone.  
“Look Mum, a cham-“he wasn’t able to pronounce the world but wanted to grab the mushroom.  
“No Neville, that’s not a champignon. This mushroom is poisonous, very poisonous. Don’t touch it,” his mother said.  
Neville cried in disappointment. He was a bit scared too.   
“Don’t cry. There are many others. Look here, many champignons. These should be enough for dinner.”  
Neville looked at the mushrooms and smiled. “Many cham, many cham,” he said eagerly.   
His mother took out a knife and cut the mushrooms off before putting them into her basket. Then she stared at one of the trees, her body tense. Neville looked there too but he didn’t see anything interesting.   
“Neville, we need to go home,” his mother said. 

Neville was sitting on his chair in Lestrange’s office at St.Mungo’s once again. At first, he was completely perplexed, then he felt like a complete idiot. Why the hell had he been so scared of this memory? Why was he acting like a fool anyway, trying to run away from his own memories? That wasn’t like him at all. He didn’t quite know what to say so he stayed silent.  
“There’s room for improvement as far as your Occlumency skills are concerned,” Lestrange said. “It’s rather unhelpful if you hide your memories so well you don’t recognise them yourself anymore.”  
Neville saw no reason to mention that he had never remembered this mushroom excursion before.   
“Anyway, the Memory Charm has indeed erased your complete memory at that time as I had suspected. Way too strong for the desired purpose. The person who did it obviously wasn’t a trained Obliviator. The spell’s not completely intact anymore though. Probably due to the magic you’ve been in contact with, especially during your last Hogwarts year.”  
There was no need to mention that the “magic Neville had been in contact with” had been the Cruciatus curse which had been used on him by the Carrows frequently. Neville knew it anyway and he was familiar with this side effect thereof.   
“There’s one problem though,” Lestrange continued. You seem to have attempted to rebuild the damaged Memory Charm with your own magic. The patched parts you’ve visualised. This probably means that you will fight the effects of the potion as well. This can lead to unpredictable reactions. You should have an emergency Portkey to St.Mungo’s ready and you have to inform your family beforehand. They might have to tell your colleagues what’s going on if you aren’t able to do so yourself.”  
“Yes, I’m going to do that,” Neville said.   
He didn’t really want to involve either Hannah or his mother into this but not doing so really seemed foolish now. Even the short Legilimentic check had clearly shown that there might be situations he couldn’t control. He wasn’t sure how he would have handled the panic this memory had brought him for no real reason if Lestrange hadn’t told him what to do. It was quite embarrassing but there was nothing he could do about it. He almost regretted his decision by now but he had to do it. Some things had to be faced no matter how hard they were.  
“Well,” Lestrange said, handing him the charts he had drawn. “You know how to make the potion. Good luck.”

When Neville arrived at home, his mother was in the garden, planting cucumber and tomato plants. She was wearing plain robes but Neville noticed that they fit her properly. She must have been out shopping.  
Neville was glad to see her spend the warm spring day outside. He regretted that he would have to spend it asleep but anything else would be foolish. He wouldn’t keep himself up with potions so he could sit in the sun. The warm time of the years was only about to begin.  
“Good morning, Mum,” he said.  
“Good morning Neville. Shouldn’t you have been home earlier? Where have you been?”  
Neville felt slightly annoyed by those questions. He was 26 years old, not 16. It was none of her business when he came home and where he went. If the situation between them had been normal, he would have said so, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He didn’t want to argue with her.  
“I had a meeting,” he said instead.  
“A meeting? With him?”  
Neville looked up in exasperation. Why did she ask this kind of question? She knew that she wouldn’t like the answer. He would have preferred not to answer at all but his mother would probably guess the truth in this case.  
“Yes. We were discussing a new healing potion. Snape and Lestrange have developed it together.”  
“A new healing potion you say? That can’t have been all, can it? You don’t look well at all.”  
Neville sighed. Why did it have to be so easy to guess how he was feeling?  
“There’s nothing wrong. I’m simply tired. I have spent the last night working as you know.” He had to tell her about the Memory Potion at some point but he didn’t think this was the right moment. The discussion with Lestrange had left him exhausted. He didn’t feel up to having a serious conversation with his mother as well now. It was too easy to say something wrong when he was so tired.

“He told you that I’m supposed to apply for citizenship, hasn’t he?”  
Neville starred at her. How had she been able to guess that? They had never talked about the subject matter at all. There was no point in denying it though Neville didn’t want to talk about anything further so far.  
“He mentioned this, yes,” he said slowly. “How do you know?”  
“Well, Theodore Nott asked me if I was going to do it when we met on the playground last time,” Alice responded. “He informed me about the necessary steps and everything. I don’t think he meant to threaten me. He probably really thinks it would be better for me.”  
Neville was surprised that she seemed to be taking this so well. So she already knew more about this than he had before Lestrange had told him.   
“What do you think?” he wanted to know.  
His mother hesitated for a moment. “It’s really hard to say. We need to make the right decision for the specific situation at hand. When I’m sitting in this house on my own, I’m definitely not helping anyone. It feels like betrayal, like giving up.”  
Neville couldn’t deny this. He had felt the same way about it.   
“But still, I’d only sign that our side has lost the war so far which is an obvious truth. And it would secure my position here. I’d have more freedom. I agree with you in a way, you can achieve more when you pretend to take part in a way that isn’t immoral than when you hide away. Remus and the others have no choice of course, but if you’re given one... It’s really hard to make the right decision.”  
“Of course. You don’t have to decide this today,” Neville said. He was pleasantly surprised about the way his mother had thought this through. Theodore Nott had obviously been quite sensitive when talking to her about it. Neville was grateful for that. It was good that she didn’t connect it with Lestrange.

“No, but I shouldn’t wait too long, I think. Did Lestrange threaten you in any way?”  
Neville didn’t know what to say and finally decided to tell the truth before she imagined something worse. “I know this sounds stupid but I’m not quite sure.”   
Whenever their discussions turned to anything personal Neville wasn’t certain if he tried to actually give him sound advice or if he wanted to manipulate him in some way. Maybe it was a little bit of both.  
“That doesn’t sound stupid at all,” Alice said.   
He’d probably be glad that they were discussing the subject matter right away, Neville thought. It definitely seemed to be a good moment for his mother even though it wasn’t really for him.   
“You never know if he spends all this time with you because he actually wants to discuss your work or if he rather tries to keep a constant eye on you,” she said.   
That was a very accurate description of the situation, Neville thought.   
“You’re right,” he said.  
“I’m sure it’s not easy for you,” his mother said. “Being forced to play a role and hide what you really think and feel. But it’s probably the only chance to get along in this Slytherin world.”  
“Probably,” Neville said.   
It was the first time he could remember that he and his mother were actually able to discuss the problems at hand. He always tended to get the feeling that she couldn’t cope with it and that he had to protect her. Maybe he hadn’t been entirely right about this.

“I’m trying my best as well now,” she said. “And I’m not quite sure what I’m supposed to believe. Sometimes I think that people like Dylan Mulciber or Lisa Turpin are really doing nothing but protect us from criminals like we used to in the past. Then I’m starting to see them as Death Eaters again. It keeps changing.”  
“I’m feeling the same way,” Neville said. “And I’m really glad that I have this neutrality as a Healer. I’m obliged to help everyone who needs it, that’s making many decisions easier.”  
“I’m quite surprised that they kept the Healing Oath,” Alice said. “It doesn’t fit Voldemort. He wants to control everything.”  
“Lestrange says he wouldn’t care about the healthcare system enough to get involved there personally,” Neville said. “He thinks that Voldemort believes healing magic is for the weak.”  
“A wizard of Voldemort’s skill and learning wouldn’t believe anything as foolish as that,” Alice said. “Healing magic is dangerous to him for two reasons. It can undo much of the damage he does which is quite inconvenient to a wizard like Voldemort. It can also be used as a weapon and offers ways to harm others that aren’t available to people without this gift.”  
The very idea of using his healing magic as a weapon disgusted Neville. It went against everything he had sworn.  
“Mum, I would never use my gift to-“  
“I never said that you would do this. The possibility exists however and I’m quite certain that Voldemort is aware of this.”  
“I don’t really know,” Neville said. “But why are you telling me this? Do you think Voldemort sees me as a threat and has Lestrange watch me for this reason?”  
“I assume that he doesn’t fully trust you at least,” his mother told him. “I don’t believe that he trusts Lestrange either. Actually, I even suspect that he wants you to watch him as well. He probably expects that you wouldn’t protect him.”  
Neville was too tired to really grasp all those theories. 

“I’ve talked to Remus and Andromeda on Monday when Hannah had the children,” Alice explained. “I’ve been asking myself what my part in this entire game is supposed to be for a very long time, you know. Did Voldemort order Lestrange to give me the potion so you would side with them? Was it Lestrange’s own idea and did Voldemort accept it or did he do it on his own? If that’s true, how did Voldemort react?”  
“I can understand that you’d like to know this,” Neville said. “I don’t really know either though. Voldemort didn’t seem to mind it though.”   
He shivered slightly as he remembered his one meeting with Voldemort. The discussion with the Order members explained why his mother was suddenly thinking about all those things.  
“I didn’t expect you to know,” Alice said. “I don’t really like being some part in their game, maybe even in some test of power between those two. I’m not sure what’s going to happen when I actually do sign this declaration. There might be some sort of hidden trap. Another reason for me to keep up the status quo.”  
“You don’t have to decide this right away,” Neville said. He believed that it was time to end this conversation for now. It was bad luck that he was so tired when his mother felt able to talk but he couldn’t change it. He wasn’t able to say many sensible things now.   
“Maybe we’ll get information that makes it easier,” he added. “I’m really tired now though and I think I should go to bed. Let’s continue talking about this some other time.”  
“Alright. I need to finish the planting anyway.”  
No matter how tired he was, Neville wasn’t sure how quickly he’d be able to fall asleep. He had heard so many things this morning. The idea that there might be some sort of trouble between Lestrange and Voldemort was unexpected and Neville didn’t really believe it.   
He was glad that his mother had such a good day however and that she was able to think about their present situation after all. Maybe she would finally get better if no one caused new trouble.


	7. A Wizard without a Wand

Police officer Frank Logan glanced at his wrist watch. Another hour before his shift would be over. Another hour of waiting. There wasn’t much happening in the small town of Arington and he knew he should be grateful for that. Who’d want to see another wife beaten by her husband, another daughter threatened because she dared to love the wrong man or another young boy beaten up because he didn’t want to hand over his mobile phone?   
Still, Frank hated the idleness more than anything. He desperately wanted to get up and do something.  
His colleague Olivia looked at her watch as well. “Do you have any planes for tonight?” she asked.  
Frank stared at her, realising that it was rather rude a moment too late. Olivia smiled slightly. At least she didn’t seem insulted.   
“We’re going out for a drink after work, Marc, Thomas Diana and me. We’d be glad if you’d like to come too.”  
Frank hesitated. He didn’t want to give her any false hope and he didn’t really feel like going out either. An evening with his colleagues might not be too bad though.   
“You really need to go out sometimes,” Olivia urged him on. “Life is more than work you know.”  
Before Frank had any chance to answer, the door opened. 

“Isabella Norton is here with her new boyfriend,” their secretary Mrs Miller said.   
“Oh. I had hoped I wouldn’t see her anymore,” Olivia said.  
The teenager had been the leader of a rather violent girls’ gang at the local school. She had been a frequent “visitor” of the local police station. The last round of social service and especially her meeting with Red Cross volunteer and model student David Smith seemed to have finally changed her though. There had been no reports of any trouble since.   
“She hasn’t done anything as far as I know,“ Mrs Miller said. “She wants to report something.”  
“Very well, send her in,” Olivia said while Frank asked himself if one of her victims had decided to take the law into his or her own hands. It was their duty to find out what was going on of course.  
A few moments later, two teenagers walked into the room. Isabella Norton’s look hadn’t changed too much. She still had her hair dyed black with violet strands and wore a black leather jacket. She didn’t apply her earlier excess of make-up anymore though and it was quite visible that she was rather pale, dark lines beneath her eyes. Despite of the warm weather, she wore a green scarf around her neck.   
Her boyfriend was a rather lanky young man with short brown hair and glasses. Not the kind of person Frank would have expected someone like Isabella to be attracted to.  
“Good evening, Miss Norton, Mr Smith,” he said and they greeted him in response. An amount of politeness rather unusual for Isabella. “I’ve heard you wanted to file a report.”

Isabella opened her mouth but not words came out.   
Instead, David started to speak. “Bella would like to tell you something.”  
Frank barely understood the rest of the sentence. Bella, Bella, this name. In front of his eyes, the girl’s hair turned to a pure and natural black and the green scarf to one in green and silver stripes.   
With a massive effort, Frank forced himself to see the girl in front of him as she really was. His head started to ache but that was better than these thoughts. Much better.  
“What‘s the matter?” he asked, glad that he managed to make his voice sound normal.  
Isabella swallowed and finally, she began to speak. “It’s my mother. She, well, when she’s drunk.” She stopped in mid sentence.  
“What’s happening when your mother is drunk?” Olivia asked kindly. Frank was glad that she took over. Everything seemed to be swimming in front of his eyes. He hated this weakness. If anyone ever found out, he’d be rid of his job right away.  
“Well, she’s, she’s beating me. Badly. And last night, last night she tried to strangle me.”   
The girl took her scarf off. Red marks were visible on her thin neck. So that was why she had worn it.  
“These are grave accusations, Miss Norton,” Olivia said. “Would it be alright for you to visit the medical officer with me? He can examine you and document the injuries you have.”  
Frank could see David talk to his girlfriend quietly. He could hear what he was saying. “Do it. It’s the only way to prove this.”  
Finally, she nodded. Olivia made a phone call right away. They were lucky. The medical officer agreed to see Isabella right away. 

Olivia told the two teenagers to wait outside for a moment. “I think it’s better if I’m accompanying her. You need a bit of rest.” She spoke more quietly so that no one else could hear her. “It’s that headache again, isn’t it?”  
When he didn’t answer she said: “You really should consider if therapy wouldn’t be the better option after all. This can’t go on like that and you know it. You men are just too proud. After what’s happened to you it is quite natural that you need professional help. Being shot in the head and lying in a coma for 15 years isn’t something anyone can get over just like that. There’s no need to be ashamed you see.”  
“I’ll think about it,” Frank promised though there was nothing to think about. He didn’t need any therapy and there was none that could help him anyway.   
Frank did the paperwork while Olivia accompanied the young girl to the medical officer. When they returned so Isabella could sign the complaint, Frank’s eyes lingered on David. He asked himself if the boy really was the person everyone thought he was or not. Did he really wish to help his girlfriend or anyone else by the way or did he only do this to hide his true self? You could never be sure.  
Frank was glad when the two teenagers finally left, Isabella would stay with David overnight. Olivia didn’t mention Frank’s therapy anymore. Instead she talked about Isabella and how shocked she was about the way she was being treated by her own mother.  
Frank agreed with her but he couldn’t really feel anything about it. He found it hard to see the notorious criminal as a victim of violence who deserved pity. It all seemed so far away. The headache didn’t subside and Frank knew he had to reject the offer to go out with his colleagues.   
He wasn’t up to it.

When Frank returned to the small house he had rented, the first thing he did was taking a pain-killing pill. It would lessen his headache, at least a bit. Frank knew that he should have something for dinner but he simply didn’t feel like it.   
He turned on the TV for distraction but the flickering light only made his headache worse, so he turned it off again and took a book instead. Some historical novel he read hoping to learn more about his new culture. The amnesia-excuse worked fairly well but he didn’t want to repeat the story about his supposed health issues to everyone.   
Reading didn’t want to work out this evening either though. The headache remained, coupled with a restlessness that simply wouldn’t allow him to remain on his couch. As soon as he got up again, his knees went so weak he had trouble walking.  
Frank hated it so much when this happened. He knew it could cost him his job or worse, endanger other people when he did something like that on the job. So far, he had been lucky. It had never happened during the moments where it counted. There weren’t too many anyway. They preferred to let him do deskwork. As if they knew more about his state than they admitted.   
Bella, what was there in a name? Names were nothing to fear about, someone had said so. 

Maybe Olivia was right. He should go to a therapy.   
Frank couldn’t go to therapy. Even if he had wanted to which he did not. It was impossible to tell any therapist the truth. The truth was that Frank Logan had once been someone else. Frank Longbottom, a wizard.   
This man, this wizard no longer existed and most of the time, Frank was able to forget him. Not tonight.   
Frank didn’t have a wand anymore. He had borrowed one to fake the Muggle certificates and credentials that would give him a new past. Right after he had ran away from this Death Eater-ruled hospital. He had made it before they realised that he again knew who he was.  
This had been eight years ago, since then, he had never held a wand again, never seen any spark of magic.  
Well, actually he had. There was a little girl in the neighbourhood, Laura. Strange things had been happening around her and she had come over to Frank quite often, wanting to talk to him.   
Until the gas meter readers had come. Laura’s mother had left her daughter alone with them for a while because a neighbour wanted to show her something. She had bitterly regretted this. A few days later, the woman visited the police station because something was wrong with her daughter. She feared that one of the men might have done something to her while she was away. Frank had called the gas company; they had never sent anyone to Laura’s family. The police had tried to find the men but they seemed to have vanished into thin air.  
Strange things no longer happened around Laura and she hardly ever talked to anyone anymore. Her mother was angry at the police’s failure to catch the culprits.  
Frank could guess why this had happened. The visitors must have been Death Eaters or sent by them to take the Muggle-born’s “illicit” magic away. Frank had failed to protect her. Failed again.

He walked towards one of the drawers which contained nothing but one single photograph. At first glance, it seemed to be a simple photograph of a garden with raspberry bushes. Frank looked at it for a while and slowly, as if she needed to check if it was safe first, a person came out from behind the bushes. Two people actually, a smiling woman who held a small boy with a chubby face. The boy held a few raspberries in his hand and was putting one into his mouth.   
Frank looked at the two of them who seemed so happy. Neither of them knew what would happen so soon. They didn’t know that they were going to die in terrible pain only a few days later.   
He should have protected them but he had failed.   
Alice hadn’t wanted him to go and look for Voldemort. He still heard those questions she had asked. “Can’t you stay here with me and Neville?” “Couldn’t they send someone who doesn’t have a small child?”  
Frank had considered it, but in the end, he had decided to do his duty. How should he have known what the consequences would be?

He had never believed he was going to find Voldemort. They had found his body, it was certain that he was dead.   
But Frank had found him. Not the wizard Voldemort; a shadow of evil, lurking in a forest in Albania. His body gone but his evil had remained, trying to possess the Auror who wanted to kill him. The thought of Alice and Neville had thwarted this attempt. She had saved him without even being there. Frank had never had a chance to tell her. He had needed to keep secret what he had found and now it was too late.   
Frank didn’t want to remember but he couldn’t help it. He saw Alice fall under some devious curse from Lestrange, some sort of perversion of his gift, no doubt. He had stolen her wand, it was so wrong for him to even touch it. Frank knew what that wand had meant to Alice and he knew about the amount of respect she had always used it with.   
She had actually managed to undo the Cruciatus curse used on him, for a short while at least. Later she had kept him from giving in twice. If it hadn’t been for her word, he probably would have told him. Frank wasn’t quite sure if he had been right not to. She shouldn’t have had to endure this because of him.   
“I can do to you whatever I want,” Lestrange had said to her, touching her. Frank remembered the way he had been looking at her only too well. He didn’t want to imagine what had happened after he had stopped noticing what was going on. It wouldn’t help her anymore if he did.  
Enough, Frank told himself. Enough. If he continued doing this, the memories would drive him insane again.   
He had been thinking about something important, Voldemort. 

 

Frank had not been possessed by Voldemort but he had still brought Evil back home with him. Alice had suspected something. “You know Frank; I think Mr Crouch’s son has been following us. He approached Neville once, when we were at the playground. He asked if you were at home. His excuse was really bad. You don’t think he could be a Death Eater, do you? Do you think he knows about, well that Neville is the other one?”  
Frank had heard it all but he hadn’t believed her. Barty Crouch, a Death Eater? The boy who had visited Frank’s parents regularly? The boy whom Frank had taught how to ride a broomstick? Frank hadn’t been able to believe it. Despite of everything he had learned during those long years of war, he had not been able to believe it.   
Why hadn’t he trusted Alice’s instincts? She had been an excellent Auror and her judgement of people and situations had hardly ever failed. He could have prevented it all if he had only taken her seriously. 

He should have gone to Dumbledore immediately. Back then, there had been many reasons not to do so right away, but now it was clear that he should have gone. Frank knew what Voldemort must have done to survive. It was magic so evil that he shivered from only thinking the name here in this quite Muggle neighbourhood but sometimes, the truth needed to be faced.   
A Horcrux, Voldemort must have created a Horcrux to tie himself to this world. As long as he had it, he couldn’t be killed. This was knowledge Frank should have shared with the right people as quickly as possible. Now, no one knew about it. A mortal tyrant could still rule a land, but he wouldn’t be ruling it forever.   
Dumbledore was long dead, Frank had gathered that much from the Healers’ conversation he had overheard while they believed he was still too far away to understand.   
Voldemort’s Horcrux was probably still around and no one knew about it. No one other than Frank.   
What had he been thinking, hiding away in the Muggle world for so long? The only thing he could do to vanquish his shame was finding and destroying this Horcrux and keep Voldemort from ruling forever.   
It was the only way to honour their memory.  
Frank didn’t have a wand and he hadn’t used magic for years. It wouldn’t be easy and it would most likely be the last thing he did, but the thought wasn’t bothering him anymore. What was there to lose if you had already lost everything?

It would take some planning, Frank was sure of that. He’d have to resign his job with the Muggle police but he was sure they’d understand if he told them he had to do so for health reasons. The superiors didn’t seem to be too happy about him anyway. Maybe the suspected that something might not be quite right about Frank Logan’s back-story.  
Money shouldn’t be a problem, thanks to Moody. Right at the beginning of Auror training, he had told them that they had to expect anything. “There might be a time when it’s not safe to access Gringotts anymore. In this case, it’s very helpful if you have an account with a Muggle bank.”  
Frank had followed this advice right away and opened a Muggle account with the rather huge amount of money he had inherited from his great-aunt Eudora. Frank had never really needed this money anyway, earnings as an Auror weren’t bad. Some of the money had sustained him at the beginning of his escape, there was enough left for a few years if he didn’t waste it. Frank would most likely be dead before he had to worry about his monetary resources.

His mind wandered back to Isabella Norton. She had more than the nickname in common with that other woman. Isabella too was a fighting girl who didn’t care about others or at least she had been in the past. Even those issues with her mother, there had been plenty of rumours about Druella Black-Rosier.   
Frank wondered if the Muggle-Bella would continue making the right choices. Either way, she had made him make the right choice, finally, after all those years. For that alone he should be grateful to her.


	8. The Memory Potion

Alice had tried to talk Neville out of this. What use would it be for him to start digging into the past? The Memory Charm wasn’t hindering him in any way anymore. He did well in his work and his forgetfulness had improved considerably.   
Why take a barely tried new healing potion if it wasn’t really necessary? In Auror training, Alice had learned a few things about the dangerous consequences magical instabilities could have. Quite a few dark curses had such effects. Memory Charms didn’t count as dark magic but if the recipient’s memory was completely wiped, that did affect his magic. Especially in someone as young as Neville had been back then.   
Alice didn’t want to imagine the state Neville must have been in so the Aurors would decide to take such a measure. He should never have been forced to witness something like that; it would have been her duty as mother to protect him. A duty she had failed.   
She couldn’t really blame him for not heeding her warning now.   
Alice had expected that there would be unpleasant side effects but she had not thought that it would go wrong quite so badly. The potion was supposed to induce a sleep during which the memories were awakened. It should have been over after one night. Three nights had passed by now and Neville was still extremely ill. He suffered from high fever, vomiting and a strong headache that neither healing magic nor potion could make any better. The worst part of it all was his mental state however. Neville was suffering through hallucinations and something that might be terrifying memories, Alice didn’t know. They didn’t come from the first three years of his life. Most of the time, he didn’t recognise her or his wife at all.   
That must have been how he had been feeling during those long fifteen years, Alice thought. 

Hannah walked into the living-room, her usually rosy face pale. There were dark lines under her eyes. Neither woman had slept much since Neville was ill. They couldn’t leave him alone at night; one of them had to watch over him all the time. Francis and Deborah were staying with Hannah’s best friend Susan Macmillan and her family.   
“We really should take him to St.Mungo’s now,” Hannah said. “It can’t go on like this.”  
Alice sighed. Neville had explicitly told them that he didn’t want to go to the hospital, not if there was any alternative.   
“I had to give him more of the fever potion again,” Hanna explained. “It didn’t really work well anymore though.” She swallowed hard. “If it doesn’t get better, he might-” She stopped mid-sentence.   
Alice knew what her daughter-in-law had wanted to say. Neville was so ill it might actually threaten his life. At least, they didn’t know enough to be sure that this wouldn’t happen. He had left an emergency Portkey and the recipe of the potion for this kind of situation.   
“I’m not sure if they’ll be able to do much though,” Alice said. She wanted to spare Neville the humiliation of being in the hospital where he was working, seriously ill from a potion be had brewed himself. “If I have understood this correctly, no one other than Neville and Lestrange knows about this potion so far. I don’t know if the recipe is enough for them to understand but I doubt it”  
“That’s not good,” Hannah said. “Wonder why they didn’t tell anyone else.”  
“Lestrange has always liked to keep his innovations secret as long as possible,” Alice said. It wasn’t hard to guess why. Knowledge was power.   
“Still, a Healer should check on him. Maybe there’s a simple way to help him and we just don’t see it because we don’t have the training,” Hannah said. “Do you think one of the Healers would visit us here? Hestia Jones maybe?”  
Hestia was the only Healer at St.Mungo’s whom Alice had actually trusted. After she had been allowed to leave the hospital, Hestia had visited her at home a few times. Maybe she’d help again.  
“That’s a good idea,” Alice said. “Would you contact her?” She still didn’t feel that the Healers would really take her seriously. Not after fifteen years as an insane patient there.  
“Of course,” Hannah said, stepping towards the mirror in the corner. It was used for communication with other witches and wizards who had access to this kind of thing. Hestia as a Healer was one of them of course.   
“I’ll go to Neville,” Alice said.  
She walked up the creaking stairs and knocked on Neville’s door. Alice knew he wasn’t going to answer but she still didn’t want to walk into the bed room of her adult son without knocking.

Neville was lying in bed, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead. There was a pained look on his face.   
“Hello Neville,” she said, not receiving a reply.   
Alice was horrified by the effects of this potion. Before he had taken it, everything had been alright with him and now this. She couldn’t get those nagging thoughts out of her head that it might not get better anymore, that she might lose him. There were so many things they had not had the chance to talk about yet.   
Her heart was breaking at the thought that he had endured the same all through his childhood whenever he had visited her.   
There bowl they had put beside his bed was full once again. Alice cast a quick vanishing charm to clean it up. Neville’s eyes widened when he saw her wand.   
“Don’t hurt her, please don’t hurt her. She’s only a third-year,” he muttered. “It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault.” He almost shouted those words the second time.

“Neville, it’s me, your mother. I’m not going to hurt anyone,” Alice said kindly, hoping that he’d understand the tone if not the meaning of the words.   
He looked at her. “Mum, you need to get away from here. It’s not safe.”  
At least he knew who she was again, Alice thought slightly relieved.   
“Don’t worry, we’re at home. Everything’s alright. You’ve got fever, that’s all.”  
“Please, drinking,” Neville muttered.  
Alice poured water into his cup and gave it to him. He drank avidly, the illness probably made him lose lots of water. Alice hoped he’d be able to keep the water down.   
The flask with the rest of the Memory Potion was still standing on one of the shelves next to the Portkey and the handwritten recipe. It had a deep blue colour from the Medea’s Leaf berries. Maybe Neville was allergic to this plant. Or he had made a mistake while brewing the potion. He had struggled with Potions in the past after all. If he hadn’t used it successfully before, Alice would have believed that there was something wrong with the recipe but the other patient had obviously been freed of the charm upon him without any unpleasant side effects.  
She took his temperature. 38.5 degrees. This wasn’t extremely high but Hannah had given him the fever potion. Without it, the situation would probably be worse. The lower temperature didn’t seem to bring any improvement with his hallucinations though. Neville started to talk about things Alice couldn’t understand again. “No, not that! Please not that. You can’t ask me to do that!!”   
Once again he seemed to be completely unaware of his mother’s presence, a look of pure terror on his face. Alice asked herself if these were real memories and what horrible things he had been asked to do if they were. 

Hannah walked into the room. “We’re lucky. Hestia is home already and she’ll come and have a look at him,” she said, sitting down beside Neville and holding his hand. This seemed to calm him down a bit.   
Alice was relieved. She really hoped that the Healer would be able help Neville and get him away from those nightmares. For some reason, the potion seemed to have awakened his worst memories. Maybe Hannah knew more.  
“I’m glad about that. We really need professional help here,” Alice said.   
“Yes, I think so too,” Hannah said. “It would have been better if he had chosen someone he trusted and done it at St.Mungo’s right away.”  
Alice didn’t answer. Neville didn’t seem to trust his colleagues too much; at least that was how she felt. After the treatment she had received during her own stay there, she didn’t want to set a foot to this place anymore.   
“Do you have any idea what he’s talking about when he doesn’t notice us anymore?”  
Hannah took a deep breath. “Yes, I think I do. He’s remembering the time when the Carrows have been teaching at Hogwarts. You know that he was something of a leader of the resistance back then, don’t you?”  
Alice didn’t like to admit it but this was one of the things they had never talked about much. She knew that Neville had resisted the new regime until Lestrange had made him realise that it was useless or something along those lines. She had not known about him being a leader of any sort.

“The Carrows were punishing people really cruelly,” Hannah continued. “Many of us were injured. Neville seems to feel guilty about this in a way. I never knew. I always thought he believed it was worth it.” She swallowed. “He always seemed so strong and brave. As if it didn’t bother him at all.”  
Neville had never told her about any of this. Maybe he believed that he had to shelter her from these things. To him, she was still the sick woman who couldn’t cope with anything. He had no idea what she had seen and heard back when she had been an Auror.  
“Did the Carrows force him to do something bad too?”  
“Well, they tried,” Hannah said quietly. “They wanted us to practice the Cruciatus curse on people who were in detention. Often others from our group, the DA. Most of us said the word without anything happening but Neville always refused. He wouldn’t do it. Got plenty of trouble because of that. We didn’t know that he was so horrified by it though. We thought it was a question of principals to him.”  
Alice looked at her son who was lying still again, clutching his head. She had had no idea. It made her understand some of his decisions a bit better. To him, the war against Voldemort had never been anything but fear, pain, misery and hospital rooms. He had never experienced the strong company within the Order, the feeling to fight for the right thing, no matter how dangerous it was, the intensity of living that came with the knowledge that every day could be your last. It wasn’t really surprising that he didn’t want to endanger the “peace” they were living in now.   
It had been a clever plan indeed. The Carrows had obviously terrorized the students and made it clear that they were in power now and could do to them whatever they wanted. After his victory over Harry Potter, Voldemort had sent Lestrange to take over and pretend that he had never approved of the Carrows’ behaviour. The higher-ranking Death Eaters had seemingly sided with the children and in their desperation many of them had accepted it. 

The doorbell rang.  
“This must be Hestia,” Hannah said.   
“We’ll be back with you soon, Neville,” Alice said. “We’ve called a Healer, Hestia Jones.”  
They went downstairs and out into the garden so they could let Hestia in.  
“Thank you very much for coming,” Hannah said. “I know it’s quite late already.”  
“No problem, it’s my job to help,” Hestia said. “I’m sure Neville would have done the same for me. Will you tell me a bit about this potion he took?”  
They did, as much as they knew about it at least. It wasn’t too much. Hestia didn’t look too happy with that.   
“I don’t know if I can help you if you don’t have more information for me,” she admitted. Alice inwardly cursed Rodolphus Lestrange for his secrecy.  
“I’ve done the after examinations for Lockhart but everything had worked fine in his case. But we’ll see.”  
She followed them upstairs.  
“Hello Neville, it’s me, Hestia Jones,” she said.   
Neville looked up. “Hello,” he said quietly. Alice was glad that he didn’t seem to be bothered by the Healer’s presence. She carried out a few physical examinations. Neville’s fever had reached 39 degrees again.   
“He has a very bad headache which doesn’t respond to healing magic,” Hestia noted, a symptom Alice and Hannah had noticed themselves. Making headaches go away was a very basic use of healing magic and Alice had learned it at the beginning of her first-aid for Aurors-class.   
“It’s probably due to magical reasons,” Hestia said. “I’d like to make a check-up on his magic if you don’t mind. Does Neville have any recent magic diagrams from before he took the potion?”  
Hannah looked at Alice. “He has brought something like that. You’ve put it into some file, haven’t you?”  
“Yes, I’ll fetch it,” Alice said quickly. Hannah being with Neville and the Healer should be enough.   
“No need to hurry, there are a few things I have to check,” Hestia said.

Alice left Neville’s room and walked towards her father-in-law’s old study. They were using this room to keep important files now. One of them contained their magic diagrams from St-Mungo’s. Alice’s own fell into her hands first and she looked through them. The first had been made right at the start of Auror training. She had been required to have the flows of her magic checked before she got admitted. The diagram had been signed by Healer Derwent. Belenus Derwent was a very able and respected Healer. He had resigned his job in protest against Lestrange’s dismissal and left for the USA. Back then, Alice had thought this was a strong gesture, by now it felt like a betrayal. He might have been able to help them much earlier or at least spare them the more harmful forms of treatment. Instead, he had abandoned the war-torn Great Britain for the sake of a Death Eater.  
With a jolt, Alice noticed that Lestrange himself had signed the second one. She had forgotten that she had ever been treated by him but now she remembered the occurrence. A battle between Aurors and Death Eaters in Yorkshire. She had been hit by an unknown curse from Dolohov and the others had insisted on her going to St.Mungo’s because they had suspected damage to her magic. There had been no such damage however. Alice had been at the prime of her magical power back then.  
It had weakened again during the pregnancy and lack of practice in the year she had spent in hiding because of the prophecy. They had never planned to have a child in the middle of the war, it had been an accident. Keeping the child had never been a question for her though, no matter how unhappy Crouch had been about this development.   
The third magic diagram had been made by Healer Stebbins right after the attack. Everything was looking so wrong and messed up that it was a wonder she had even survived rather than being killed by her own twisted magic.  
The fourth one had been done at the start of her treatment. It was signed by Hestia. Alice was surprised to see that it looked much better than the one from the beginning. There was still visible damage but some of her magic had already restored itself. She had never known. No one had ever told her that she had undone some of the damage herself.  
The last showed a healthy pattern again but there weren’t nearly as many connections as there had been before. Alice knew that new ones could be made if she practiced more, maybe there even were some by now. She also knew that it would never be the way it had been back when she had fought at the front lines of the battle between Order of the Phoenix and Death Eaters anymore. This wasn’t only true for her magic.

Enough of this, Alice told herself. She had come because she needed Neville’s pattern. It was here, showing the odd flow of magic caused by the barrier of the memory charm. No one had signed it.   
She returned with the diagram, Hestia had already made a new one and was busy testing Neville’s blood in a small basin with various spells and potions.   
“Did she find out anything?” Alice asked Hannah quietly.  
“Well, there seems to be something wrong with his magic,” Hannah said. “I don’t really understand this diagram stuff though. He’s definitely not allergic to Medea’s Leaf. That’s not the problem.”  
“Yes. And there are no traces of the ingredients left in his body either,” Hestia said, having finished the blood test. “He has not been poisoned the ordinary way. The magic contained in the potion must be the reason for the problems. Do you have the diagram?”  
She took it from Alice’s hands and put the two pieces of parchment next to each other. Alice looked over her shoulder. Some magic was flowing through the Memory Charm barrier now but was blocked by other streams of magic which seemed to attempt to keep the barrier up. It couldn’t flow through and accumulated behind this new barrier, some of it trickling out and being blocked again. Alice didn’t need to be a Healer to tell that this must be the reason for Neville’s illness.

“Can you do something against this?” she asked.  
Hestia sighed. “There are a few things that could be tried but I have two problems. I’m not familiar with the magic that has been applied to this potion. I’ve never heard of this spell but I assume it’s darkish in nature given the effects that are supposed to be achieved. Because Neville has created the potion himself, it’s impossible to separate the magic used in there from his own. Otherwise I could have tried to trace it. This way I can’t see if there’s something wrong with the spell either.”  
“Does this mean you can’t do anything?” Hannah asked desperately.   
“I could do something but knowing so little I can’t be sure that it helps rather than making matters worse,” Hestia explained.   
“Could you tell us what you’re thinking of?” Alice asked.  
“Yes, certainly. There are spells or potions that block his magical resistance. This would allow the magic from the spell to work without interference.”  
Alice shivered when she heard this. She remembered the magic Lestrange had used on them at the beginning of the torture to keep them from resisting the curse. This must have been something like that. She forced herself away from those memories. She had no time for them now.  
“I could also try a symptomatic treatment with a strong calming potion combined with something against the pain and against the fever. If he found rest, the potion might work properly without any outside control of his magic. The third option would be the use of the Imperius curse. Yes, I know it used to be an Unforgivable curse but it has been allowed for medical applications all the time. If it worked, it would enable me to guide him to use his magic in a way that isn’t harmful but if it failed, he’d try to resists even harder. Any of this should only be done under constant supervision at St.Mungo’s.”

Alice and Hannah shared a long look.   
“I don’t mean any disrespect but I’m not sure if anything like this should be done if you don’t know exactly what it will do,” Hannah said.   
Alice agreed wholeheartedly. She didn’t know what else they were supposed to do though. Hestia’s first option made her sick with dread, the second one sounded reasonable at first glance, but Alice knew what these kinds of potions had done to herself. She didn’t want to force Neville to go through the same. Even though she knew that the Imperius curse had sometimes been used by Healers in the past, she wasn’t comfortable with that either. It had not been declared unforgivable without reason.  
“You don’t have to make a decision right away,” Hestia said kindly. “Neville’s state isn’t immediately critical at the moment. Maybe he’ll manage to get by on his own after all. This is surely the safest option. You have the Portkey to St.Mungo’s if he should get worse. I’ll give you a stronger potion against the fever and headache and if you want me to try something, you can contact me anytime.”  
“Alright, thank you,” Hannah said.   
Alice had hoped for a different result. Still, Hestia had come here in her free time, so she thanked her and offered her to stay for dinner. Hestia refused this though. She probably knew that the Longbottom women didn’t feel like having a nice dinner at the moment. Hannah accompanied her to the door while Alice stayed with Neville. 

Neville asked for something to drink again and Alice gave him water. At least he hadn’t vomited anymore. “My head is aching,” he said. “Potion doesn’t work.”  
Alice suppressed a sigh. She had feared it wouldn’t work. Magical pain didn’t respond to the normal counter measures as she knew only too well. This probably meant that the entire “symptomatic treatment” approach would be useless.   
Alice put a hand on his forehead. It was glowing with fever. Her magic could sense the pain but there was nothing that could undo it. During her pregnancy, she had sometimes seen herself sitting at the bedside of her sick child. She had planned what she would need to keep at home for such cases; she couldn’t simply go out and get a Healer while hiding from Voldemort. Now the “child” was an adult but she was going through exactly this situation. At least, she could get a Healer now and she could take him to St.Mungo’s too. He’d have to swallow his pride if necessary.  
“I’m sorry Mum, I didn’t mean to do be so ill,” Neville said. “I didn’t mean to give you all so much worry. It was stupid to try it.”   
“It’s not your fault,” Alice reassured him. At least he knew who he was, who she was and what was going on at the moment. “I understand very well that you want to know the truth. I want you to remember the time we have spent together too. There are many good memories, only this one bad one. You’ve loved plants even back then. Maybe try to remember that.”

“I do try but I can’t,” Neville said sadly. “I think I’ve done it wrong. I’ve always been so bad at potions.”  
“I don’t know that,” Alice said. “We don’t know what the potion is supposed to be like. That’s why we can’t check it.”  
“Lestrange,” Neville said. “He knows. Maybe Hannah could, could ask him to have a look at my potion.”   
He looked embarrassed, probably because he knew how she felt about this. She didn’t want him to feel even worse because of her but hearing that he thought of Lestrange when looking for help in such a situation did disturb her. Had he really managed to win Neville’s trust? Neville claimed otherwise in front of her but she wasn’t sure if he was saying the truth. Maybe he didn’t really know the truth himself.   
Hannah had a more pragmatic view on the subject matter. “I know you don’t like the idea but it’s the only reasonable thing to do, isn’t it? If he’s the only person who knows how this potion is supposed to work, he’ll have to figure out what’s gone wrong,” she said while feeding Neville some of the chicken soup they had cooked for him.   
“I don’t really like going there, but if it’s not getting better, I’ll do it tomorrow,” Hannah said.   
Alice didn’t respond. She didn’t want to see Rodolphus Lestrange involved with her life in any way. Still, she had no real reason to object to Hannah showing him the potion they had been working on together. It was Neville’s wish after all and she had no right to make any decision for him. He had long since become an adult and she was the one under his guardianship, not the other way round.  
Her only hope was the Neville’s state would improve over night.

“I think we should go and eat something too,” Hannah said.   
Eating was the last thing Alice felt like doing now. She knew that she had to though, but not right away.  
”I’ll take the diagrams back,” Alice said. She didn’t quite know why but order had become very important to her since she had been ill. She always made sure that everything was in its proper place, sometimes the others were annoyed by that.  
Hannah didn’t seem to mind though.   
Alice wished she had some proper training in interpreting these diagrams. Derwent had told her a few things about it and so had, as much as she hated to admit it Lestrange. Looking at Neville’s latest diagram she recognised something familiar. The defensive magic he had used to protect the Memory Charm looked very much like something in one of her own diagrams, the one from the end of her stay at St.Mungo’s. It reminded her of her self-developed defence against the after-effects of the Cruciatus curse.   
Alice realised what that must mean. Neville had had the curse used on him by the Carrows, Hannah had told her that much. The magic had done some damage and now, Neville responded as if he was under a dark magic attack again. Hadn’t Hestia called the magic in the potion “darkish”? Consciously, Neville knew that the current situation was different but there were things happening inside him which he couldn’t control. Alice knew that very well, it kept happening to her. Every time the potion started to work, he remembered the Carrows and thought he had to fight.   
It was quite likely that this was one of the reasons for Neville’s state. The fact that the Charm had been applied at such a young age and affected the development of his magic as well as his fear of the things he was going to remember probably made it even more difficult.

Alice didn’t believe that the methods Hestia had suggested would help here. What they needed to do was motivating him to remember. Neville needed pleasant memories at first to make this possible. She was the one who could do that because she had been there almost all the time. Alice could tell him about these times, she had pictures she could show him and maybe even the smells of some things.   
She was also able to practice Legilimency which might allow her to keep the Carrow memories at bay and help him remember the right things. She had to try that.  
Alice looked at the diagrams for one last time. It made her wonder if the person who had cast this Memory Charm had really intended to help Neville. He seemed to be sure that it had not been a Death Eater but one of the Aurors. If everything went as planned, she’d soon know more. At least she would if Neville shared the memory with her.  
When Alice joined Hannah at the kitchen table she did manage to eat a serving of soup. While eating, she explained to Hannah what she had come up with.  
“This sounds good,” she said. “Better than the suggestions from Healer Jones. And it won’t do any harm if it doesn’t work. I really hope it’ll help though.”  
“So do I,” Alice said. If this failed as well, St.Mungo’s would probably be the only option left.


	9. The Visit

When they had finished their soup, Hannah went to Neville’s room. She wanted to say goodnight before she went to sleep.   
Alice fetched a few photographs from her own room. One of them showed Neville sowing carrots in the small garden of the house where they had lived with Frank. She smiled wryly. Both she and Frank had hated to hide away, unable to do anything anymore. Growing their own vegetables had been one small thing they had been able to do for themselves.   
A few of the other pictures showed Neville in the garden of Longbottom House, picking berries and looking for apples under the family’s old tree. The last ones had been taken in Frank and Alice’s house, showing Neville playing with a toy model of Hogwarts. One of them showed Dumbledore as well, he had visited them on Christmas. Neville looked quite frightened at the sight of the bearded old man. Dumbledore had been their Secret Keeper. That was why Voldemort had attempted to kill Harry Potter rather than Neville; the Potters’ Secret Keeper had betrayed them. Dumbledore must have lifted the spell right after Voldemort had vanished though, he had never told them explicitly.   
Alice really hoped that those pictures might help Neville to remember. It was hard of course, most children couldn’t remember more than a few things from their early childhood. She wasn’t quite sure if it was even possible. She hoped he’d allow her to use Legilimency, it would allow her to help him reach the right memories.

“You need to come, quickly,” Alice hadn’t heard Hannah come in. The look on the younger woman’s face and the tone of her voice made it clear that she didn’t bring good news.  
“What’s the matter,” Alice said, following her swiftly.  
“Neville’s much worse,” Hannah told her, while they were hurrying towards his room. “He had some sort of seizure right now. I managed to stop it with magic but it can happen again anytime.”  
Neville didn’t look up when his mother and wife entered his room. The skin on his face had turned an unhealthy red now and was very dry. “Water,” he croaked and Hannah gave it to him. He didn’t manage to drink properly anymore, spilling half of the water around him.  
Alice put the photographs down on Neville’s bedside table. It was too late to try what she had had in mind. Neville needed professional help now.   
“That’s enough. We have to take him to St.Mungo-Hospital,” Alice said, angry at herself. She should have thought of her plan earlier, it might have enabled her to spare Neville the humiliation. They weren’t able to handle this situation on their own anymore though.

Hannah sighed deeply. “I’m afraid the people on night shift don’t know what to do about this any more than Hestia does. I’d hate to see them experiment now. We have no choice. We need to ask Lestrange for help.”  
Alice stared at her, shocked by what she had just heard. “You can’t be serious.”  
“I’m completely serious,” Hannah responded. “He has invented this potion and he knows what kind of magic has been used in there. I know you don’t like this but he and Neville have been working together for years now. I’m sure he’ll help him.”  
“Hannah, we can’t let him near Neville when he is in this state. We can’t let him come here,” Alice said.  
“I don’t think we have any choice,” Hannah said. “And we shouldn’t waste any more time arguing. Otherwise, it might be too late. You don’t have to meet him. Simply stay in one of the other rooms while he’s here. It’s enough if I talk to him.”  
“You really want to do this, don’t you?” Alice asked, her voice shaking.   
“I’m sorry but I have to,” Hannah said.   
Alice nodded. She knew that she couldn’t overrule Hannah’s decision. She didn’t want her daughter-in-law to have to invoke her position. As long as she was under Neville’s guardianship while Hannah was a free citizen, she had the right do decide what was supposed to be done.  
“If you must. I will not leave Neville alone with him in this state though,” Alice told her.  
“That’s your choice,” Hannah said curtly. “I just hope he’s going to come here now in the middle of the night.”   
She drew her wand and summoned the mirror used for communication not bothering with avoiding wand use in Neville’s presence anymore. He didn’t seem to notice anyway. Tapping the mirror lightly with her wand, she said: “Lestrange Manor.”

Alice was watching through the corner of her eyes. The mirror glowed in a faint light and a few moments later, the face of Bellatrix Lestrange became visible. If she hadn’t known who it was, Alice wouldn’t have recognised her. She looked older but unlike Alice still beautiful, the look in her eyes had changed in some way. She wasn’t dressed the way Alice expected her to be either, wearing dark purple robes, her hair pulled back in a long braid.   
“Bellatrix Lestrange here, I hear you,” the other witch said.   
To her own surprise, Alice didn’t react with seeing any unwanted memories when she heard her speak. Maybe that was because her voice had changed considerably too, it had become calmer and deeper. Alice had other worries now as well.   
“Good evening, I’m Hannah Longbottom.”  
“I know who you are. What’s the matter? Have you been attacked?”  
Hannah and Alice looked at each other, slightly confused. Why should anyone want to attack them? It had never occurred to Alice that they might have enemies who weren’t Death Eaters.   
“No, we haven’t,” Hannah said. “Sorry for bothering you at this time of day. It’s Neville. He has taken a potion and is very ill now.”  
“So it went wrong?” Bellatrix asked. “The Memory Potion?”  
How did she know about that? Alice asked herself. Had Neville told Lestrange why he had needed a sick note? Probably.   
Hannah didn’t waste any time asking why she knew. “Yes, it did. Could I speak to your husband, please?”  
“Certainly. Wait a moment.”  
Alice sat down beside Neville who was gazing into space seemingly not seeing anything. She half-expected to wake up soon and realise that it was all a weird dream. Bellatrix Lestrange leading a polite conversation with Neville’s wife? Something was off about her behaviour.

“Good evening Hannah. Bellatrix told me that something went wrong with Neville’s potion. What happened?”  
Alice overheard the conversation, still sitting next to Neville bed, trying not to think. She had learned to clear her mind at the beginning of her training in Mind Magic but the skill wasn’t very reliable anymore. Since when had her son and Lestrange been on first name terms?  
Hannah gave a short description of Neville’s state, speaking very fast.  
“I have to admit that I didn’t expect side effects as bad as this,” Lestrange said. “There’s not much I can tell you about it from here. Do you want me to come and have a look at him?”  
“Yes, please,” Hannah said. “If you don’t mind.”  
“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I did. You’ll have to give me your address first though. I’ve never been to your place.”  
Hannah told him, Alice thought that he should be able to guess where they were living anyway.   
“You should better come via the Floo Network though,” Hannah added. “There are wards around the house and I don’t think we can let anyone in any other way. We are no Longbottoms by blood.”  
“Alright. We shouldn’t waste any time trying to figure out how to get through any protective spells. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”  
“Thank you.”

Hannah seemed relieved while Alice had hoped that Lestrange would refuse so she could take Neville to the hospital as she had intended.   
“I’ll go down to meet him in the living-room,” Hannah said, taking the half-emptied potion flask with her. “And you can decide if you want to stay. You really don’t have to.”  
“Yes,” Alice said. “I know.” She still didn’t intend to leave Neville and Hannah alone with Lestrange when Neville was so ill. Hannah knew little about more dangerous forms of magic, she might not recognise if he did something harmful. Alice was more likely to do so and she was going to stay. She would never be able to forgive herself if something happened to Neville while she was somewhere else, hiding.  
He was shaking now as if he were very cold. Alice got up and put her hand on his forehead, Neville was still glowing with fever. The cold feeling must have different reasons. If only she knew what to do about it. Hannah seemed to hope that Lestrange would be able to help but Alice wasn’t able to hope for that. She didn’t want to depend on him, to give him power over herself once more. She would much rather have had Neville taken to the hospital. She hadn’t had the strength to tell Hannah so, however.   
“Mum,” Neville said. His voice sounded as if he were trying to reassure himself she was really there.  
“I’m here Neville,” she said, taking his hand which was hot and dry as well now. “I’m here.”  
There were voices downstairs. So he had arrived. Alice didn’t understand what they were saying and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to.   
“There are green stripes everywhere,” Neville said slowly. “Green stripes.”  
Alice looked around. The room was lit by a lamp at Neville’s bedside table and a salt lamp in the corner. Neville had used it as a child when he had been afraid of sleeping in the dark. He had told them when Deborah had shown similar fears. There were no green stripes anywhere.   
“The walls are coming closer,” Neville said, startling her. “The walls are coming closer. They’re going to crush me!” He almost screamed the last sentence, raising his head.   
“Neville,” Alice said, trying to sound calm even though she didn’t feel it at all. “Neville calm down. Everything’s alright.” He was still looking around wildly but didn’t say anything more. 

Alice heard footsteps on the stairs. For a moment, she considered leaving after all but she just couldn’t do it.   
“Hannah will be here with you soon,” she told Neville and sat down on a chair in the corner behind the door in the darkest part of the room. He might not notice her there.  
A few moments later, the door opened and Hannah walked in, accompanied by Rodolphus Lestrange. He wore grey robes with blue linings. It was easier for to concentrate on his robes, this way, she didn’t have to look at his face. Lestrange walked directly towards Neville’s bed and didn’t notice her or at least, he didn’t acknowledge her presence in any way.   
“Good evening Neville,” he said calmly which told Alice that he was really using Neville’s first name on a regular basis.   
Neville looked at the Death Eater standing next to his bed. Alice expected him to panic but he didn’t do anything like that. “You are here too?” he simply asked with a hint of surprise in his weak voice.  
“Yes, your wife asked me to come.”  
“I’ve messed up,” Neville said. “It’s my own fault that I’m this ill.”  
Alice hated to see him blame himself like this but at least he wasn’t talking about green stripes and moving walls anymore. She simply didn’t know why he was so insecure about himself. If he hadn’t been, doing this at the hospital would never have been an issue.   
“No Neville. Your potion is perfectly fine,” Lestrange told him. “Hannah showed it to me. You’ve done nothing wrong. What’s happening here is not your fault.”  
“The potion is okay? But why then?”  
“I’m not quite sure but I’m going to try and find out what’s wrong,” Lestrange said. “I’m going to make a diagram of your magic first.”  
“Hestia already made one earlier this evening,” Hannah said, looking around. “It must be somewhere here.”  
“You’ve told me that his state has worsened,” Lestrange said. “Some things might have changed again, this can happen very quickly. Don’t worry; the magic used to do this isn’t harmful in any way.”

He had completely changed back to his Healer persona, acting as if nothing had ever happened between his time as a Healer and as Voldemort’s head of the Health Care Department, Alice thought. To Lestrange, it probably didn’t make much of a difference if he was trying to make someone feel better or worse.   
It was outrageous and she would have liked to say so but for Neville’s sake she did not. Instead, she stayed silent, chewing her own lip until she drew blood. It’s salty, metallic taste reminded her of that night again. Lestrange, using his gift to make her own magic turn against her and destroy her defences against the Cruciatus curse. When she had begged him to stop because she couldn’t stand anymore, he had told her: “I know that,” before doing it again.   
This was about Neville now, she told herself, trying to push the memories away so she could see what he was doing to him now. She recognised the spell as the same one Hestia had used earlier but this didn’t make her feel less uneasy. Hannah handed him a piece of parchment and a quill and Lestrange made the newest drawing.   
“We’ll be back with you soon, Neville,” he said after he had finished. Hannah got up and walked with him towards the door. Alice wondered if she should stay or follow them for a moment, then decided to do the latter. She wanted to know what he was going to tell her, what he intended to do.

They walked to the other end of the corridor and Lestrange turned around. For a moment, he was looking at her as if he had seen an Inferus. She did almost look like one of course, Alice thought.   
“Surprised to see me?” she asked.  
“I shouldn’t be,” Lestrange said his usual impassive look back on his face. “This is about your son after all.”  
“Yes. Is there anything you can do,” Hannah asked quickly, attempting to step between the two of them literally and verbally.  
“His magic has become dangerously instable,” Lestrange said. “This causes the physical symptoms as well. It would have been wiser to take him to hospital as soon as you realised that something went wrong. Waiting for so long hasn’t improved the situation.”  
Hannah looked as if she wanted to explain herself but thought better of it.   
“There’s nothing we can do about this now though. It has happened. Neville’s in a very childlike state of mind at the moment. This isn’t surprising. He has taken a potion which is supposed to reconnect him with memories of his earlier childhood. He’s not acting like an adult who can take charge of his magic but again like the child who can do nothing right. That’s why he’s so focused on having brewed the potion wrongly. He probably feels that the situation is completely outside of his control.” 

“It is, isn’t it?” Hannah asked.  
“By now, yes. His magic is dealing with the situation in ways ruled by his subconscious and they’re in conflict with each other. That’s the reason for his symptoms.”  
He showed them something on the diagram he had just made. “Maybe you can see that the potion has achieved its effect. The Memory Charm is strongly damaged. It would be gone completely soon if Neville’s magic stopped defending it.”  
“So you have to make him stop defending it?” Hannah asked. “How can you do this? The Imperius curse?”  
“The Imperius curse would do more harm than good here,” Lestrange said. “It would take even more control away from Neville . This needs to be done with a specific form of Legilimency.”  
This form of magic had been what Alice had had in mind as well. She didn’t know what Lestrange meant when he was talking about a “specific form” of Legilimency. She wasn’t going to ask though.   
“This should be reasonably safe for him but it would be better if you didn’t stay in the same room.”

Alice wanted to protest but decided that this wouldn’t be much use anyway. She remembered that he had often refused to let relatives or colleagues stay with his patients during his early time at St.Mungo Hospital as well.  
Hannah didn’t feel like taking this quietly. “But why? We want to be with him. I don’t think he should be alone.”  
“He’s probably going to resist,” Lestrange said. “Given his state it’s quite likely that there will be some accidental magic. You could get injured. It will be more difficult for Neville if he thinks he might harm you. Some things are easier without worried family members nearby.”  
Hannah sighed deeply. “Alright. We’ll wait in the living-room. You’ll know what you’re doing.”  
Alice hated it that she spoke for her as well without even asking but she knew that she wouldn’t be able to get her own wishes. Now that they had a second opinion in favour of Legilimency, she could try it herself but Hannah seemed determined to entrust Lestrange with Neville’s treatment now. 

Reluctantly, Alice went downstairs with Hannah. Rationally, she knew that Neville was alone with Lestrange often enough and that he had plenty of opportunities to harm him if he intended to do so. She still felt it was wrong to leave her son like that though.   
They sat down on the couch, neither of them spoke. Alice was angry at Hannah for involving Lestrange but she knew that saying so would be useless. She hated how Hannah didn’t seem to care about her feelings but she probably did what she thought was best for Neville. Alice knew that Hannah really cared for him, no matter what she did. She didn’t have to endure the memories Alice had to carry around every day of her life either. Hannah didn’t even know any details about the attack, Alice had never told her or Neville. She didn’t want him to remember it all in the presence of Lestrange of all people but she couldn’t tell them that either. Did he intend to tell Neville his own story of the attack? Was that why he didn’t want to have her nearby? Neville had not witnessed the worst parts of the torture. What he had seen probably wasn’t different from the things he had been forced to witness later under the Carrows. Alice was glad about that because this way he wouldn’t be forced to live with memories too burdensome. At the same time, she was upset because he might not understand what had really happened. Maybe he’d think she was supposed to get over it, that she was overreacting.   
Hannah’s regular breathing showed Alice that the other woman had fallen asleep. How she could sleep now, Alice didn’t understand. She was tired as well, after those nights spend awake but she would never sleep while Lestrange was here, carrying out some form of unknown treatment on Neville. How had he been able to win her trust and Neville’s as well? Alice too was tired, but every time her eyes wanted to close, she jerked awake again, when she realised what was going on. 

Much later, she didn’t know how much, Lestrange walked into the living-room. Hannah was wide awake in an instance. Maybe she hadn’t been so trustfully asleep after all. She got to her feet and asked: “How is he?”  
“He’s asleep now,” Lestrange said. “He’s probably going to sleep for a while now, let him if possible. When he wakes up, the charm should be gone.”  
“So he’ll be alright?” Hannah asked.  
“Yes, he will be. It will take a while for his magic to readjust though. Neville needs to do the RMP but it shouldn’t take too long I hope.”  
“What is “RMP”?” Hannah wanted to know.   
“Reconvalescent Magic Program,” Alice answered quickly. She didn’t feel like listening to another lengthy explanation from Lestrange. “I’m familiar with that.” The program was surprisingly effective as she had discovered when doing it herself. It had led her back to reasonable magical skill quite quickly.   
“So is Neville,” Lestrange said. “He’s prescribed it plenty of times and I had him do it back at school. I’d like to check his magic again when he’s finished so I can see if he’s up to start working again.”  
“I will do that,” Hannah said. “Thank you very much for coming here at this hour. I know you didn’t have to do this.”  
“It’s been a matter of course,” Lestrange said. “We need Neville. Talented Healers are rare and nowadays even more so. Now tell me, do you think the house will allow me to leave through the door?”  
“I’m not sure,” Hannah said. “Maybe you should better use the fireplace again.”  
“Very well. Good night.”  
Lestrange stepped towards the fire place, relighting the dying fire with his wand and throwing a pinch of powder into it. The flames turned green and he stepped in. A few moments later he was gone.  
Alice took a deep breath.

Hannah extinguished the fire again before turning to Alice. “Seriously, did you have to be so impolite? We needed his help.”  
“What does it matter? He doesn’t care if I’m polite to him or not,” Alice said.   
Hannah shook her head. “I don’t understand why you wanted to meet him at all.”  
“I didn’t want to meet him. You wanted to invite him here,” Alice reminded her.   
“We had no choice. I don’t think anyone else would have been able to help him now,” Hannah said.  
“We don’t even know if he said the truth,” Alice said.   
“Let’s go to Neville then,” Hannah said. “I wanted to do this anyway before I went to bed.”  
When the two women entered Neville’s room, they really found him asleep. His face had returned to a healthy colour and the fever seemed to have gone.   
Alice was relieved of course, but angry at the same time because they had needed Lestrange’s help again. It would only make him feel even more like the one who could decide over their life and death. It was useless to try and explain this to Hannah though. She didn’t know what exactly had happened and gladly accepted the role Lestrange had chosen to play again. Hannah couldn’t know how hard it was to be “polite” when the last words you had spoken to someone had been pleas of mercy while his answer had been the Cruciatus curse.


	10. Time to Remember

Blue spots were dancing in front of Neville’s eyes. They made it almost impossible to see anything. Was he going to go blind? His body clenched in fear and the pain in his head grew even worse. The headache was much worse than any of those back in his seventh year when he had recovered from the Carrows’ curses. He felt nauseous as well.   
Neville tried to look around. He was alone in his room. He dimly remembered that there had been people with him only a little while ago. Or maybe more time had passed. He had lost any sense of time. Where had they gone? Why had they left him all alone?  
Neville wasn’t alone for much longer. Someone opened the door and walked towards him. Neville was barely able to recognize Lestrange. He remembered that Lestrange had been here before. He hadn’t been the only one though.  
“Where’s Hannah and where’s my Mum?” he asked.  
“They’re both downstairs in the living-room,” Lestrange said. “They need rest and there isn’t much they can do for you now.”  
“I’m sorry. I never meant to cause so much trouble,” Neville said. His mother had more than enough problems without him adding another one and Hannah was always so quick to worry.   
“You don’t have to be sorry for anything,” Lestrange said. “We all know that you didn’t want to become so ill. There have been side-effects we didn’t expect. Your own magic is trying to defend the Memory Charm against the potion. That’s the reason for symptoms. We have to stop this.”

Neville was very tired and he head was aching so badly that it was almost impossible to think. His magic felt very mushy and unreliable.   
“I don’t know how I can do that,” he said.  
“I know. That’s why I’m going to help you. Do you remember how you have visualised your memories when I examined you at the hospital?”  
Neville found it hard to remember anything at all. Anything but those terrible hours with the Carrows which forced themselves into his consciousness again and again. When he tried really hard, he was able to do so however. Neville shivered at the memory of the dead, black vines creeping into his mind. He could barely hold onto it.   
“Do this again but this time; try to dismantle the wall you’re seeing there. Do it slowly, one stone after the other. I’ll help you if necessary.”  
Neville thought of the wall. It had seemed so solid. He didn’t know if he could do that. “I’ll try.”  
“Good. Will you let me use Legilimency on you?”  
“Yes,” Neville said quietly, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to prevent him from doing so even if he wanted to. He was barely aware of the fact that there were some things Lestrange mustn’t see but he lacked the strength to do anything about it.  
“Alright. Try to visualise the garden with the wall again.”

Neville did try but it proved to be impossible. He was way too tired. Instead of a garden, Lestrange saw a complete memory from Neville.   
He was sitting in the Defence-classroom, it was the first lesson of seventh year. Amykus Carrow had written the names of the three Unforgivable curses on the blackboard and underlined the Cruciatus curse. Carrow had just told them that from now on they were supposed to learn how to use this curse. Neville was staring at him in horror and so did most others with the exception of some Slytherins. Even there Neville could see some shocked faces.   
“You’re going to start to practice next lesson,” Carrow told them, his face twisted by an ugly smile. “Today, I’m going to demonstrate the effects of the curse to you.” His eyes were searching the class until they lingered on Neville. “What about you Longbottom? Yes, I think you’re the perfect candidate for this.”  
Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle snickered but even Pansy Parkinson looked more worried than gleeful.   
“Come here, boy, come here.”  
His legs shaking, Neville obeyed. He didn’t want to show fear. Carrow shouldn’t get this satisfaction. Neville was scared of course, how could he not be? He was going to have the Cruciatus curse used on him, in the very classroom where he had seen it for the first time three years ago.   
Carrow was still smiling, obviously looking forward to the thing he was going to do. “Down on your knees, Longbottom,” he told him.  
“No,” Neville said defiantly. He wasn’t going to kneel in front of Carrow.  
“Very well. You’ll only fall harder this way. Now watch closely everyone.”  
Carrow raised his wand. “Crucio!”  
Neville fell to the floor and screamed. There was nothing he could do about it, simply nothing. The pain was too strong, it was everywhere. 

Neville found himself lying in his bed once more. There was no more pain aside from his headache.  
Lestrange was watching him closely. “You can’t use Occlumency at the moment, can you?”  
“I don’t think so,” Neville said, his throat still very dry. “Could I have something to drink?”  
Lestrange gave him a glass of water. Neville didn’t know how many of those he had already drunk this night but he was still so thirsty.   
“It’s extremely difficult to find the Memory Charm if you can’t show me the way as you did last time,” Lestrange said. “There’s only one way. Carrow’s curse must have done some damage to the charm. I can’t think of another reason why you’re remembering it so clearly now. I have to follow Carrow’s magic to find it.”  
Neville had trouble understanding what Lestrange was talking about. The only part that reached him somehow was the last one. “Carrow’s magic? It’s been nine years.”   
The idea that something from Carrow’s curse was still lingering on him made him sick. Nauseous as he had already been it made him sick enough to vomit. Neville felt so embarrassed. Lestrange must be losing any respect he had for him if there ever had been any. Why had it all gone so horribly wrong? Why wasn’t he even able to do Occlumency? Why did he have to fail again?

Lestrange cast a Vanishing Spell and said. “I’m sorry. I thought you’d know about that. Carrow’s magic is gone, what’s left is nothing more than a shadow or an echo of it. I’ll explain this when you’re well again. It shouldn’t give you any trouble in normal situations and it might be gone when you’re through with this. In your current situation it’s actually helpful because it makes it easier to find the Memory Charm.”  
“A shadow,” Neville repeated slowly. The idea that the magic from the Cruciatus curse lingered with you forever was frightening but Neville knew that it probably was true.   
“Let’s go back to the task at hand,” Lestrange said. “You have probably sensed the damage to the Memory Charm in some way while you were under the Cruciatus curse but you didn’t realise it or you didn’t realise what it was. I need to find this moment in your memory. For this, we’ll have to go through it completely. Do you think you can do this?”  
“Yes, of course. I’ve been through it before after all.”  
Neville didn’t want to be seen as a useless coward anymore and he really thought he could do it. He had seen this memory a few times already during his illness and he had endured the curse for real when it had happened. Back then, he had at least managed not to cry or show Carrow and the others how he was really feeling some other way. Afterwards, it had improved, he had learned to resist in a way.  
“Good. Let’s get it over with then,” Lestrange said.

To Neville, the memory contained nothing but pain. He was completely unable to find anything interesting or useful there. Lestrange however, did obviously because the clear memory was suddenly gone.   
Instead, Neville felt as if he was falling into some vast abyss full of swirling blackness. He had been there before. In some of his nightmares during the first weeks under the Carrows’ rule.   
“Don’t panic,” Lestrange told him. “Try to visualise something different.”  
Neville tried to turn the blackness into something solid. It was black, like fertile soil. He could grow plants there. There was an image in his mind, an image of the garden he had seen during the test.   
A few moments later, he was standing in this garden again, right in front of the wall. It had changed now. The entire construction looked much less stable than it had before. There was nothing coming out at the moment, neither dead nor living plants.  
“Very good,” Lestrange said. “You know what to do now?”  
“Remove the stones from the wall.”  
“Yes. Do it.”  
Neville looked towards the wall and touched one of the stones. He got it lose but it was much heavier than he had thought. His arms were shaking from the stone’s weight when he dropped it to the floor. Neville sighed. There were so many of them. How should he ever do this? He managed a second one but the third was too heavy.   
“I’ll help,” Lestrange said, but his magic didn’t blend with Neville’s. There was something alien and threatening about it. 

A moment later, the spell was broken and Neville was in his bed. Lestrange was busy pouring water onto the carpet, it had caught fire. The hem of his robes had been burned as well.  
“I’m sorry,” Neville said. “I didn’t mean to attack you.”  
“I know that. Accidental magic. Don’t worry. Roxy has a tendency to set things on fire when she feels threatened as well.”  
Neville sighed. This was okay for a seven-year-old but not for him. He was an adult who should be in control of his magic. “I must be a difficult patient,” he said.  
“I’ve had worse. Let’s try again. You’re on the right track.”  
This time, Neville managed to visualise the garden right away and they returned to the wall. Lestrange was more careful this time and Neville tried not to reject his magic or attack him again. This time, it worked and the third stone was gone.   
Neville managed to get rid of the fourth and fifth on his own again, when something changed. Every stone Neville tore down made him almost feel as if he had been forced to carry it around all the time. His fear was replaced with relief. Removing more stones wasn’t hard anymore; he wanted to get it done as quickly as possible now.  
“Careful, don’t rush it,” Lestrange told him.  
Neville wasn’t listening anymore. He threw away more and more stones and suddenly, the wall started to crumble. There were flashes of light in various colours; Neville didn’t quite know if they were in his mind garden or in his actual room. It didn’t matter. Where the wall had been, a cloud of dust rose.   
A slight wind came to blow it away. When the dust was gone, Neville looked upon a part of the garden he had never seen before. There were no dead vines in there anymore but Neville spotted a lone, purely white mushroom as well as some belladonna plants with their shining black berries. There were patches of carrots, turnips and other vegetables too though and many other things. Neville wanted to step in to take a look, but there still was some sort of invisible threshold he couldn’t cross.

When Neville found himself in his bed again, headache and nausea had gone. He was wide awake. Neville tried to remember something from the time with his parents but there were no memories to be found. Could it be that he didn’t really remember anything because he had been too young? Had it all been in vain?  
“How are you?” Lestrange asked.  
“Better, much better. I still can’t remember anything though.”  
“Yes, that’s normal. Remember how the potion works? You have to sleep first.”  
“But I’m not tired,” Neville said.   
“You are and you’ll realise it soon,” Lestrange said. “I quickly need to check your magic again though if you don’t mind.”  
Neville didn’t. He was used to it by now. Lestrange seemed satisfied with the results. “The Memory Charm is gone now and so are the barriers you have made to protect it. You’re magic isn’t imbalanced anymore but still rather chaotic. You’ll have to practice so it can readjust. The RMP should do for that.”  
“Alright, I’ll do that,” Neville said. “Thank you for coming here to help me. I’m really sorry for causing all this trouble.”  
“Yes Neville, we all know that. It hasn’t been any trouble to me. Yours was an interesting case that has taught me much about the new potion and about its interactions with other forms of magic.”  
Neville remembered the “shadow” of Carrow’s curse. The thought didn’t have the power to make him physically ill again but he hated it still. 

“This will prove helpful to future patients. Another thing we can discuss when you have recovered completely,” Lestrange said. “But now you should complete the process. You know what’s going to happen. You’ll fall asleep and you will relive some of your memories. When you wake up, the memories should be properly integrated as if there had never been a Memory Charm.”  
“Yes,” Neville said. “I hope this is going to work.”  
“So do I. I don’t see any reason why it shouldn’t though. It is quite possible that you’re going to sleep for a few days. I’ll tell your family to let you sleep if possible.”  
“Thank you. But how do I start this now? I don’t feel sleepy at all.” Neville wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.   
“You’re so tired that you’ll fall asleep soon,” Lestrange said, picking up something from Neville’s bedside table. “Your mother has left a few photographs here. It might be easier if you look at them.”  
Neville had never seen any of these photographs before. The house some of them had been taken in was completely unknown to him. One of the pictures showed him under the apple tree here at Longbottom house. He was picking up apples from the ground. Neville looked at the picture more intently. There was something, a very distant memory. It wasn’t very frightening but not really pleasant either. Neville felt a wave of tiredness wash over him. He barely saw Lestrange put the pictures back and walk through the door before his eyes closed. 

***  
Neville was sitting in his grandparents’ garden. It was a warm and sunny day and there were ripe apples on the ground. Most of them had already started to rot and Neville knew that he couldn’t eat them. After rolling five apples over, he found one that looked good. He stretched out his hand to take it when he felt a stinging pain in his hand.  
Neville started to cry. His hand was red and started to swell.  
Strong arms were picking him up. “This was a wasp,” his mother said and carried him towards the house. “Don’t cry. It will be better soon.”  
“I told him there were wasps there,” another voice said, it was much less friendly. “That’s what he gets if he doesn’t listen. He shouldn’t cry like that either. A Longbottom doesn’t cry from a bit of pain. The boy’s not supposed to grow up to be a weakling.”  
“Augusta, really. Neville’s a two-year old child, not a trainee Auror,” Alice said and went inside with Neville, not talking to the older woman any longer. Inside, she fetched a small bottle of some potion. “This will hurt a bit but it will get better soon,” she told him. “Keep still.”  
Neville did as he was told and his mother was stroking his head. “Good. You’re not going to become a weakling, no matter what Gran says.”  
She raised her wand and spoke a quick spell; afterwards the swelling on Neville’s hand was gone.   
“I want the apple now,” Neville said.  
***  
Neville was in a small kitchen, his father was with him. He was cooking dinner. “I want to help,” Neville said.  
“Alright, you can fetch the tomatoes,” his father said. “Be careful not to drop them.”  
Neville carried the bowl of tomatoes to his father who cut them into slices with a quick spell. Frank put them into a baking dish with cheese and herbs; afterwards they were setting the table, Neville was helping again. This time, one of the plates did fall to the floor though. Frank quickly mended it with his wand. Afterwards, he put Neville into his highchair. Neville didn’t like that. He wanted to walk around. “Want down,” he said.   
“No Neville, you stay in there. Mum will be home soon,” his father told him. Neville was annoyed. He didn’t want to stay there so he started to kick and cry.   
“Neville, stop it!” his father told him but Neville didn’t listen.   
When his mother opened the door and almost threw her bag on the floor, he fell silent. His Mum was really angry.   
“Good evening, Alice,” Frank said. “Everything alright?”  
“Not really. I’m going to tell you when we’re sitting,” she said.  
Frank turned back to Neville: “Do you want tomatoes?”  
“Yes.”  
He started to slice them into pieces so Neville could eat them with his spoon. He wasn’t allowed a knife or fork yet, those were for the adults.   
Alice sat down, took a deep breath and said: “Hello Neville. Sorry for startling you.”  
“Well, he did deserve it,” Frank said with a slight smile. “The way he’s been acting.”  
“I’m fine Mum,” Neville said, proud that he had learned to say this and started to tuck into his tomatoes. 

“So, what happened, dear? Did the Lestranges refuse to show up again?” Frank asked now.  
“No. They did turn up and we had to let them go,” Neville’s mother said, her eyes flashing with anger. Neville knew that she wasn’t angry at him now but he preferred to be quiet. He hoped they wouldn’t talk about boring adult stuff he didn’t understand for too long.  
“That’s what I feared,” Frank said. “So they didn’t admit anything?”  
“No, of course not,” Alice said. “Bellatrix Lestrange did her best to play the cultivated pure-blood lady who would never get her own hands dirty. She arrived at the Ministry wearing gloves so she didn’t have to touch anyone who wasn’t pure-blood and went on about how impertinent it was to summon a daughter of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black to the Ministry like a common criminal.”   
Alice grimaced while Frank looked slightly amused.   
“She said that they’d only talk to a pure-blood and Scrimgeour actually conceded this request.”  
“Maybe he hoped they’d be more likely to get answers this way,” Frank suggested.  
“Well, he was wrong. Young Kingsley and I questioned her and she told us some unlikely story about how she wanted to start a family now as was her duty as a pure-blood now that this “terrible war” was over and her children could grow up in peace. All the time, she’s been using Occlumency of course.”  
“You didn’t find anything suspicious in her mind?” Frank said.  
“Well, actually I did. She must have been more involved with the Cruciatus curse than Dolohov and that says something.”  
Frank looked at her surprised. “And this wasn’t enough to keep her?”  
Alice shook her head. “No. It’s not really possible to tell if she’s used it herself or if she’s had it used on her. As if! Who should use it on her if she isn’t involved with Voldemort?”  
“They didn’t consent to the use of Veritaserum I assume,” Frank said.  
“No, they did not,” Alice said angrily. “It’s outrageous really. They “have the right” to refuse Veritaserum while others have been tortured or sent to Azkaban without a trial.”  
“You’ve always disapproved of this kind of thing,” Frank said.

“Yes, I do. It is outrageous how all the people from old pure-blood families get such lenient treatment though. First the Malfoys, then Avery and Nott and now the Lestranges as well.”  
“Well, there has been some nasty incident with Nott’s wife,” Frank said. “I don’t know what happened exactly though, it was in another team and Scrimgeour preferred to handle it discretely.”  
“Nott is still at large though,” Alice said. “But none of them is as much of a threat as the Lestranges are. I’m certain Bellatrix Lestrange is the woman we have been looking for all those years. The one who was referred to as the Dark Lady. ”  
“We only know that this woman has dark eyes, is an excellent duellist, fond of the Cruciatus curse and quite close to Voldemort,” Frank said. “The fact that Bellatrix Lestrange is an excellent duellist with dark eyes isn’t enough to put her into Azkaban. No Death Eater has testified against the Lestranges and no surviving victim has recognised them.”  
Alice sighed. “I know that. I’m certain it is because the other Death Eaters are too scared though. Bellatrix is probably the best fighter of the lot and they all depend on Rodolphus Lestrange’s healing skills.”

“More tomatoes,” Neville said. He was still hungry and he didn’t want them to ignore him all the time.  
“You’ve forgotten something, Neville,” his mother told him.  
Neville needed a moment until he knew what she meant. “I want more tomatoes please.”  
Alice smiled and sliced him a few. “Don’t forget to eat some bread too,” she told him. Neville took one piece of bread; he didn’t want to eat more though. Bread was so dry.

“I spent lots of time to persuade some of the surviving Cruciatus curse-victims to take part in a line-up,” Alice told her husband now. “Crouch would have kept them overnight, but the Minister herself intervened. According to her, it is “unnecessary” because the perpetrators wore masks and never used their names. I’m sure they could have recognised their voices though.”  
“This must have been really frustrating,” Frank said. “They should value your efforts more. Lestrange got himself quite a few supporters during his time at Saint Mungo’s of course. Among the patients whose life he has saved are Senior Auror Cordelia Savage and Scrimgeour’s young daughter, the niece of the Minister. None of them is really keen on sending him to Azkaban if they can avoid it.”  
“They should have stood up for him when he was dismissed from Saint Mungo’s,” Alice said. “This way they might have kept him from changing sides.”  
“You’re sure he did?” Frank wanted to know.   
“I am sure even though he was very careful not to give anything away,” Alice said. “He wanted to know how things are going at Spell Damage department. We didn’t tell him of course.”  
“The answer would have been highly satisfying to him I assume,” Frank said. “It’s never been the same since Lestrange and Derwent have left.”  
“You know, while I was talking to him, I really wanted to believe him,” Alice said. “I greatly respected his work. But I couldn’t. He has used Occlumency very carefully, always showing the right memories but I could tell he had changed greatly. I didn’t find any details but that much was obvious. Not enough of course, he only admitted that he treated people who “might have been Death Eaters” but he knows like us that there’s no law against that. Everyone who has sworn the Healer’s Oath has the right and duty to do this.”

“What about Rabastan Lestrange?” Frank asked.  
“Well, he told all kinds of wild stories about some parties where he has been drinking with known Death Eaters without really knowing what they were doing. He claimed he had never believed in the entire pure-blood ideology and had a half-blood girlfriend for a year and a half. No idea if that’s true, I’m sure he has to do with the Death Eaters as well, but he might not be as deeply involved as the others. In the end, he wanted to invite me to accompany him to one of the parties he attends so I can see that there’s nothing illegal happening there.”  
“You refused, I hope?”  
“Of course.”  
“I’m glad to hear it. Last time you accepted a Death Eater’s invitation to get information, things didn’t go too smoothly,” Frank said.  
Alice blushed. “That’s ages ago.”  
Frank grinned but his face turned serious again rather quickly. “So Crouch let them go without any restrictions?”  
“Yes,” Alice said angrily. “I know this is a mistake but no one wanted to listen to me. Scrimgeour told me I had a personal problem with the Lestranges.”  
“Well, you are rather passionate about the subject,” Frank said.   
“Maybe I am. I just don’t understand how someone as intelligent as Rodolphus can fall for Voldemort’s plot like that. He refused to talk to any of us after he had lost his job. I tried it, Emmeline Vance tried it, Remus Lupin did as well but he wouldn’t hear any of it. He wanted to believe that Dumbledore and Crouch were the ones who begrudged him his success while in fact Voldemort had wanted to get him away from Saint Mungo’s so he couldn’t help his enemies anymore. He should have known better.”

“So you’re calling him Rodolphus again?” Frank asked.   
Alice glared at him. “Using their last names isn’t very practical when there are three of them,” she said.  
“I know,” Frank said. “Let’s just hope that they really want to live peacefully and repopulate pure-blood society with seven children. It’s not just but there’s not much we can do about it I’m afraid. I will try though; maybe my father can achieve something. The Longbottom family isn’t without influence either you know. And remember, all eyes are on them now and I’m sure Crouch will strike as soon as he can. If Bellatrix Lestrange really is the Dark Lady, she won’t settle down. She’ll make a mistake and do something rash sooner or later and then we’ll catch her.”  
“Yes, but not before this “mistake” has cost the lives of innocent people,” Alice said. “I don’t want to be the one who explains to the families why we didn’t prevent this”  
Neville started to cry. His mother was sounding so angry and upset. He didn’t know what was going but he knew that they weren’t happy about it. The tomatoes were already eaten.  
Alice took him on her lap. “Oh Neville, I’m sorry. We really shouldn’t have ignored you like that,” she said. “There’s been trouble at work you know.”  
Neville didn’t really understand but he was glad that he was close to her and that she didn’t seem so angry anymore.

***

Neville was running around in his playpen. His mother was watching him when his father came into the living-room as well. He looked very serious. Neville stopped running and watched them, holding onto the wooden bars.   
“Alice, I have to go to the Ministry now.”  
“Frank, do you really think this is necessary? Do you really think you are the one who has to do this? You have a small child.”  
Neville looked up when he heard his mother say his name. Why was she so sad?  
“We have already discussed this. I have to go,” Frank said.  
“Not a single member of Dawlish’s team has returned,” Alice said.   
“I know. That’s why it’s very likely that they’ve found him,” Frank responded.  
“I don’t think so. The Balkans region is full of dark wizards. They’ve probably gotten involved in some sort of trouble that doesn’t concern us at all.”  
“Even if that’s true,” Frank said. “No Auror, dead or alive, will be left behind in the hands of the enemy. We have to find them. I’d want someone to do the same if it was me.”  
Alice hugged him. “I’m so scared it will be you next time and I have to go and get you back,” she sobbed.   
“Oh Alice, love, what’s the matter with you? It’s strange how this one year of peace could change so much. We always knew that every day might be our last before. You and I both knew that it was necessary, that we had to make this sacrifice.”  
“Yes, I know,” Alice said, her voice still stifled by tears. “But back then, we didn’t have a child. Neville needs his father, Frank.”  
“I’ll do my best to come home alive,” Frank promised. “But I have to go. This might be our chance to finish him off completely. We might be able to end this forever. Do you really think I shouldn’t take part in this?”  
“No Frank, you’re right. I’ve been foolish. Selfish and foolish,” Alice said. “You’re right, maybe he’s really there. You have to try and end this.”  
Frank put his arms around her. “I’m glad you understand it now, love. I’d hate to leave you behind feeling bitter about my decision.”  
“Yes, I understand now,” she whispered.  
“Please promise me one thing,” Frank said his voice husky. “Explain it to Neville if something does go wrong. Tell him I love him.”  
“Yes, Frank, I promise,” Alice said, crying again.  
Neville’s father walked over to Neville and knelt down beside him. “Hey little man. Daddy has to go on a long journey now. I hope I’ll be home for Christmas but I can’t tell you for sure. But believe me, I’m not leaving you. I’m doing this for you and all the other children. I want you to be able to grow up in peace. Bye, Neville.”  
He got up and kissed Alice goodbye, before leaving with his suitcase. 

***

Neville sat under the large Christmas tree in his grandparents’ living-room. It was decorated with real candles that were charmed so Neville couldn’t touch them and he had gotten lots of sweets and gifts.  
Granddad Frederic and Grandma Augusta were there, so were Great Aunt Enid with Great Uncle Algie and even Great Aunt Callidora and Great Uncle Harfang. Neville was a bit wary around those two, maybe because his mother was as well.   
One person was still missing though. “Mum, where is Dad? He said he’ll be here for Christmas.”  
“Your Dad isn’t back yet,” Alice said. “He’s still travelling for the Ministry.”  
“I want Dad to be here,” Neville said, tears in his eyes.  
“I know, Neville, I know. I hope he comes back soon too,” his mother said.  
Even Neville’s stern Grandmother seemed worried. “I really hope everything’s okay. All the other teams of Aurors have returned by now.”  
“Well, the last team that has taken this route isn’t back either,” Algie said. “It’s been all over the papers.”  
“You’re talent to cheer us all up is really admirable,” his wife told him.  
“I don’t think this kind of speculation will lead us anywhere,” Callidora said. “A good friend of mine in Belgrade has met some British Aurors two weeks ago. She told me because she knew one of them was my nephew. They seemed to be perfectly well if very busy. It’s very likely that they weren’t able to finish their job before Christmas. Didn’t Crouch tell you this might be the case?”  
“Yes, you’re right of course,” Alice said. “Did you hear this Neville? Great Aunt Callidora’s friend has met your Dad. He’s still busy but I’m sure he’ll be home soon.”

It was a grey day in February. Alice had taken Neville to the playground despite of the bad weather, neither mother nor son liked to be locked up inside all day. There were only very few children there with their parents. Some older youths played a game that involved kicking a ball and plenty of yelling. Neville was a bit scared of them but his mother was there so he would be safe.   
He sat in the sandbox and tried to build something like the toy model of Hogwarts he had been given for Christmas by his Grandfather. It kept crumbling down every time though. Neville started to grow impatient.   
“Hey, do you want a bit of help?”  
Neville flinched. One of the older youths had walked over to him. He had untidy light hair and many freckles on his face. He smiled and seemed quite nice. Neville wasn’t scared anymore. Maybe he’d really help him.  
“Yes,” he said before he remembered what his parents had taught him. “Yes, please.”  
The older boy sat down besides Neville and put a wooden stick out of his pocket. Neville recognised it right away. “You’re a-“  
The older boy put a finger on his lips before tapping the sand with his wand. It was much easier to build the sand castle now.  
“Thank you,” Neville said. He remembered that they weren’t supposed to talk about magic when they were out there with the Muggles.  
“No problem. By the way, what’s your name?”  
“My name is Neville,” he said grinning and the two of them continued making the sand castle.  
“Do you know where your Daddy is, Neville?” the older boy asked.  
“Daddy’s at work,” Neville said. His mother had told him to give this answer. He wasn’t supposed to tell anyone that he was away for longer.

“Hello Barty, what are you doing here?” Neville’s mother asked. He hadn’t heard her come closer at all.  
“Ah, Mrs Longbottom, good to see you,” the young man, Barty, said. “I was looking for your husband. Mother and Winky have cleaned up our garden house and they’ve found his umbrella. He must have forgotten it at the MLE’s summer party.”  
He handed the umbrella to Alice who gave him a puzzled look. “Thank you. You wouldn’t have needed to travel here to bring his umbrella though. I don’t think Frank’s ever really missed it.”  
“Well, I was a bit bored really,” Barty said. “School’s out you know and I don’t really know what I want to do now.”  
“You have excellent marks your father said,” Alice told him. “I’m sure the Ministry would gladly take you.”  
“Yes, but I don’t know if I really want to go there. I’d love to travel a bit, get to know the world and everything. Father’s against it of course. He thinks I’m not able to do it. As if I was still a little child.”   
He was talking very quickly.  
Alice raised her eyebrows. “Yes, that must be quite difficult for you. I can’t really help you though, I’m afraid. Thank you for bringing the umbrella. Neville and I really need to go home now, it’s quite cold. Come on Neville.”  
“I don’t feel cold and we’ve only just-“  
“Neville, come on. Bye, Barty.”  
She took Neville by the arm and steered him away. On their way back, she kept looking behind herself. “Listen Neville, you must not talk to strangers. Do you understand this?”  
“Yes, Mum,” Neville said, wondering what had upset her so much.

“Neville, we have to pack your things. We’re going to visit Granma and Grandpa,” Alice said. She was quite agitated.   
“Take the champs to them?” Neville asked. He didn’t really want to visit Granma and Grandpa. Gran was always so strict. He’d rather have stayed with his Mum.   
“What? The mushrooms? Yes, you’re right. Maybe we should take them.”  
Alice took Neville by the arm and apparated with him. Neville hated this. It made him feel sick. His mother hardly ever did it because of that.   
“Alice dear, what’s the matter,” Neville Grandmother asked when they arrived. “You’re really pale.”  
“Hello Augusta. Sorry for bothering you but we had to get away. I’ve just been out with Neville looking for mushrooms and someone’s been watching us. Someone wearing an Invisibility Cloak. There was no rain in this one spot. Someone’s been following us, I’m certain about it.”  
Neville didn’t understand what his mother was talking about but he did know that she was scared. He began to cry. He had never seen her mother be really scared before. It must be something really bad.   
“Are you sure?” Augusta asked. “Maybe there’s just been a very dense tree over you.”  
“I know that there’s something wrong. Mr Crouch’s son, young Barty turned up on the playground last week. He’s approached Neville. Barty said he had come to bring an umbrella Frank had forgotten but I can’t really believe that.”  
“Mr Crouch’s son? Really Alice, you can’t seriously believe that he is involved with bad folks,” Augusta said. “He’s a fine young lad from a good family. I think you’re getting a bit paranoid because Frank’s away for so long. Let’s make lunch; I hope that’ll calm you down. You can stay here of course if it makes you feel better.”  
“Thank you, Augusta.”

***  
The door bell rang. Alice flinched slightly before walking towards the door, her wand in her hand. Augusta and Neville followed.  
“Hello Alice, what kind of reception is that? You haven’t been expecting an attack, have you?”  
“Dad!” Neville shouted and wanted to run towards him but his Gran held him back.   
For a moment, Alice looked as if she wanted to hug him, than she stopped in her tracks. “Frank, what did you tell me during our sixth year when I was suffering from Dragon Pox?”  
“I told you that you weren’t supposed to thank a Slytherin because it meant betraying Gryffindor.”  
“Really Frank, I didn’t raise you to behave like that,” Augusta said. “A Longbottom is polite to everyone, no matter which school house he’s in.”  
“Yes, Mum,” Frank said. “The Slytherin in question is a Death Eater now though. He didn’t really deserve my politeness.”   
The next moment, everyone was hugging each other. Alice had tears in her eyes, this time from happiness. Augusta led all of them inside. Neville didn’t want to leave his Dad’s side anymore at all.   
He had been away for soo long. 

***

It was night. Neville’s parents were both lying on the ground, wounded and in pain. Neville felt cold, so very cold. Something terrible was going on but he couldn’t grasp it. He was holding onto his mother’s arm tightly.   
She said: “Be good and do the right thing,”   
“Enough of this sentimentality,” one of the masked men said. His voice was very cold. Neville had heard him say another word before, this terrible word. “Make sure your son is getting himself out of the way,” he added.  
“I think you should take him away. Dump him at some Muggle’s house,” another one of the masked figures said. Her voice was high and screechy, a woman’s. Listening to her hurt his ears.  
“Evelyn. Take him to Evelyn, will you? The house next to ours,” Neville’s mother said.   
“Yes, I’ll take him there”, another one of the masked men said. He sounded almost scared too. Neville had heard his voice before but he didn’t remember where.  
“Thank you,” Alice said.  
The masked man tried to pick him up, but Neville didn’t want to go with him. He wanted to stay with his Mum and Dad. His mother was crying now. “You have to go with this man Neville,” she said.   
Neville didn’t want to go with him, but he couldn’t do anything about it. He was too small. He had to let himself be led outside by the masked man. He had to leave his Mum and Dad.   
It was raining outside. The man took him over to the neighbours’ house and made him sit down on the doorstep. When he looked at him, Neville saw that his mask didn’t cover his complete face. There were green eyes and pale, freckled skin. Now, Neville remembered who this was.  
“Do we build a sand castle again?” he asked.  
“No Neville, we won’t,” he said, his voice sounded very odd. He rang the doorbell. “Someone’s going to come for you soon. Give them this note.”  
He slipped a piece of parchment into Neville’s hand and looked at him once again before walking away into the darkness.

***

A man with very short hair was holding Neville now. He too was very pale. “That’s too much, way too much,” he muttered before raising his wand. “Obliviate!”  
Neville knew that something was wrong. He began to cry. All those pictures in his head were gone now, there was nothing anymore, absolutely nothing? He only saw the things around him right now. There was a desk and a clock at the wall; some shelves were lined with files.  
Neville flinched when the door was opened. A tall woman with short brown hair walked in. Her eyes fell on Neville. “Dawlish, what’s wrong with the boy?”  
“I used a Memory Charm. It might have been a bit too strong,” the man said, shifting uncomfortable. “Sorry Madam Savage.”  
“Sorry? Do you have any idea what you have done to this child? Can I not leave you alone with the child for a few minutes?”  
“He couldn’t go on like this. Not with the things he has seen,” Dawlish said.  
“You cannot do something like this without asking your superiors. There will be consequences! A trained Healer should have taken care of the boy!”  
Dawlish looked down at his feet.   
The woman sighed in exasperation. “Go and inform the family. You can explain to them what you have done right away.”


	11. Alice's Tale

Neville opened his eyes. His room was quite bright even though the curtains were closed. He must have slept far into the morning. The dreams or rather memories were still vivid in his mind. Neville understood why the mushroom memory had frightened him so much now. They had already been threatened back then and his mother had known it. She had known that she was being followed but no one had believed her.  
If they had, they might have never been attacked. If the Ministry had believed Alice about the Lestranges and put them into Azkaban they would have been safe. If Frank had not insisted on trying to hunt down the remnants of Voldemort, they wouldn’t have had a reason to go after them.  
Neville knew that these thoughts were futile but he couldn’t chase them away completely. Thinking of the life he could have had, if he had remained with his parents, brought him close to tears.  
He was angry at this Auror Dawlish who had made him forget it all. Why had he done this? The other Auror had been right; it had done far more harm than good. Neville didn’t remember much about the attack anyway. He could still see clearly what he had just seen while asleep but the other memories were different. He didn’t remember anything distinct, only random words and images. Lestrange speaking the curse, “Crucio”, Bellatrix’ shrill voice, she spoke very differently now, at least most of the time and his mother, telling Neville’s father not to say anything for her sake. 

Never before had Neville longed to see his father again so much. He had fled from Saint Mungo’s and no one knew what had become of him. Neville had assumed that he must have died but he knew that the family tree painted on the wall of the hall didn’t show his death date.  
There was still a flicker of hope but Neville wasn’t quite sure if it was really hope. How much must his father have changed to leave his wife alone like that? They had seemed so very close. Neville’s mother had changed a lot as well. She used to be so vibrant and strong-willed, so full of life. Alice in his memories had smiled and laughed so much, he hardly ever saw her do this anymore. Comparing his mother back then and his mother now made it quite clear that she had never really recovered. Her memory had returned, her magic been mended but that wasn’t enough.  
Neville swallowed. The worst thing was that he didn’t know how to help her.  
His mother had never gotten the complete therapy the other Cruciatus curse patients received, he was aware of that. They were given the potion specifically made to counter the curses used on them first. Afterwards, Neville would monitor them to see if the potion did its work. Sometimes, one dose was enough, in other cases many were needed and sometimes, as with Ginny Weasley even that yielded no result. When the patient started to regain his or her memory, Neville would use Legilimency to make sure that they remembered something positive first, something which strengthened their will to live and fight off the curse. Even that hadn’t been done for Alice because Neville hadn’t learned it yet at this point and the only other people who were able to do it had been Lestrange and Healer Derwent in the USA. Hestia had accompanied her but she couldn’t use Legilimency. Alice had managed it without this help though.

Normally, the patients’ therapy wasn’t finished at this point. They received physical and magical training which Alice had gotten as well and Neville spend time talking to them. There were three stages of this. During the first stage, the patient had to learn to feel safe again. He needed positive contact with other people, techniques to deal with fear and he also had to learn to accept his body again. Many of the patients didn’t take care of themselves, refused to eat or suffered from inexplicable symptoms because of the hatred for themselves they had developed. When these things had been taken care of, stage two could begin.  
Neville believed that his mother had managed stage one somehow but he didn’t really see how stage two was supposed to be done.  
It was about dealing with the memories. The patient told Neville about his memories in detail and they talked about them until they became bearable. This would help the patient to deal with them like he did with other ordinary memories rather than having uncontrollable flashbacks.  
Neville found this extremely hard even with patients he didn’t know. He had managed to stay strong for them most of the time but the things he had seen and heard from them had haunted him for quite a while afterwards.  
He didn’t know if he could do this with his own mother. Neville actually made an active attempt to suppress any connections between his patients’ stories and what his mother must have gone through. Still, he knew that someone probably had to do it for her, maybe his trainee when she had learned enough.  
The third stage was about helping the patient to find a perspective for his future, something Alice still didn’t seem to have.

Neville sighed. He probably wouldn’t be able to solve this problem now even though he needed to do something about it. If he wanted the help of young Miss Prewett, he had to start her training soon and for this, he needed to make sure he didn’t waste any time before he returned to work.  
The first thing he needed now was a shower. He hadn’t washed for a few days and it was really necessary. While standing under the shower, another thought came to his mind. Could it be that his lack of memories about the actual attack wasn’t a coincidence? He had been sure he would remember everything he had witnessed back then but he had not done so. Had Lestrange influenced which memories he was going to see in some way? Neville knew that he was able to do that. Well, there was nothing Neville could do about it. Neville hadn’t been able to do it without his help and he had to be grateful that Lestrange had agreed to visit them in the middle of the night. Had he met Neville’s mother? Neville wasn’t quite sure anymore but he believed that they had all been in his room at one point. He hoped she hadn’t taken this too badly.  
Before he went downstairs to meet his family, Neville went back to his room and changed his bed sheets. They really needed it and he didn’t want to leave too much work to their elderly House Elf.

“Hello Neville.”  
He turned around and saw his mother standing in the door.  
“So you’re better?”  
“Yes, I’m fine,” Neville said. “Only hungry. How long have I been ill?”  
He kept himself from asking how she was because he didn’t want to remind her of something bad she wasn’t thinking about at the moment.  
“It’s been five days since you’ve taken the potion,” Alice told him. “You’ve been ill for three days and have slept for almost two. I’m glad you’re hungry that probably means you’re really better.”  
“Yes, I think I’m fine,” Neville said.  
“What are we supposed to eat?” his mother asked. “It’s about 11 am.”  
“What about pancakes?” Neville asked.  
“Alright,” Alice said. “Though Debbie will be upset when she hears that we’ve made them without her.”  
She smiled slightly and Neville felt reminded of the younger Alice he had seen in his memories. Maybe she wasn’t completely gone after all.  
They went into the kitchen and Neville fetched a few apples which Alice peeled with her wand. He didn’t dare to use his own yet, not after the magic problems he had suffered. Helping her like this, Neville felt reminded of the memory where had “helped” his father making dinner. Tears welled up in his eyes again.  
His mother was quick to notice. “What’s the matter, Neville?”  
Neville sighed. “I’ve only remembered something. About how I’ve been cooking with, with Dad. We’ve made baked tomatoes.”  
“Oh yes, you loved them,” Alice said. “But you never wanted to eat your bread.”  
Neville smiled sadly. He remembered that part as well.  
“So you really can remember things from back then now?” she asked.  
“Yes, I can,” Neville said. “There are some things I’ve seen while I was asleep and they’re very clear. I can’t remember the rest very well though.”  
“That’s normal I think,” his mother said. “Children usually don’t remember much from this age. Will you tell me about the things you’ve seen? I’d like to know if it’s the same I’m remembering as well. If they’re real memories and not only dreams.”  
She put the first round of pancakes into the pan.

Neville hesitated. He didn’t know what those stories would do to her. Many of the memories had had to do with the attack and the events leading up to it after all.  
“Do you know where Hannah and the children are?” he asked instead. The house seemed really quite.  
“Francis and Deborah are still at the Macmillans’,” his mother said. “They’ve agreed to take them for the entire week. Their house is big and their children like company Susan told me. Hannah had to go back to work today. One of her colleagues is ill and she has to do the catering for some sort of Quidditch tournament.”  
“Alright,” Neville said.  
“She was quite upset because she had to leave you but I told her it’s no problem. It might actually be better if she isn’t here right away. These memories are about us and she doesn’t know anything about it. Do you know who cast the Memory Charm on you?”  
Neville sighed. She really wanted to know what he remembered. Normally, he would have been glad about her resolve but this time, he would rather have kept quiet.  
“It’s been Dawlish,” he told her.  
“Oh yes, I’m not surprised,” Alice said, taking the cakes out of the pan and putting another round of dough in.  
“Really? Did he do this kind of thing often?”

“John Dawlish used to be a very competent Auror,” Alice explained. “That is, until he went looking for Voldemort in the Balkans region.”  
“Oh yes, he and his team didn’t return,” Neville said, remembering one of the conversations between his parents. “So Dad and his team were able to rescue them?”  
“Yes. They could free the entire team with the exception of Peter Summers. He had been killed during their capture. A group of Serbian dark wizards and witches. They presumably abducted them because they had gotten too close to something important to them. Frank never found out anything more. It wasn’t what they were there for.”  
“So they weren’t involved with the Death Eaters?” Neville asked. His curiosity was stronger than his desire to keep troubling subjects away from his mother.  
“Not that we know of. No Serbian Death Eaters have ever been captured,” Alice said. “Dawlish and his team members were treated in the Serbian wizarding hospital. Their injuries were healed but Frank thought that Dawlish hasn’t been the same ever since. He must have suffered some damage to his magic but refused to get it checked. Frank told me to persuade him to go to Saint Mungo’s. I used to be quite good at this kind of thing you know. Hard to believe now, isn’t it? Anyway, I never got the chance to do so and it doesn’t seem as if Dawlish has ever done anything about it.

“You remember this well,” Neville said. “It’s so many years ago and you didn’t take a potion to do so.”  
“To me, it feels as if it had been only yesterday,” Alice said. “I was quite shocked when I heard how much time I had really spent at Saint Mungo’s you know. I had lost track of time completely in there.”  
Neville quickly put the rest of the pancakes on the plate before they got burned. She hadn’t looked at them anymore. He realised that it had been a stupid thing to say. He knew how much she lived in the past.  
“Shall we eat now?” He tried to change the subject.  
“Yes, I know you must be hungry. I’ll eat one as well; I didn’t have too much for breakfast. I never do, you know that.”  
Neville swallowed. The fact that she needed to be told to eat almost always made him wonder if she had even really completed stage one. Sometimes, feeling sad made Neville lose his appetite as well but not this time. He was too hungry.  
“You always liked those pancakes as a child too,” Alice said. “Do you remember them as well?”  
Neville did but it was only one of those unclear memories. He hadn’t seen them in the more distinct ones.

“So, what did you see while you’ve been asleep?” Alice asked.  
“Quite a few things,” Neville said, knowing that this wasn’t very informative.  
“Really Neville, I’m quite certain that I’m remembering it as well anyway. So tell me about it. I just want to know if everything went properly.”  
“Alright,” Neville said. She’d probably mind more if he kept refusing to talk to her. “You didn’t really want to see Dad go, did you? I saw what it was like when he said goodbye. You were worried about him but he persuaded you that he needed to do this.”  
Alice blinked a few times before answering. “Yes, that’s right. I didn’t want him to go for really selfish reasons actually. I was scared he might not come back and I didn’t want to be without him. Now I’ve been without him for so many years.”  
A few tears were running down her face. “It’s been worth it though even though he didn’t kill Voldemort; he managed to save the lives of four colleagues. He was actually supposed to receive the Order of Merlin third class for this. Kingsley and Cordelia probably got it on their own now, maybe I should ask Kingsley about it.”  
“So Kingsley and Cordelia Savage accompanied Dad?” Neville asked.  
“Yes, they did. A small team,” Alice said.  
Neville didn’t ask the question that was on his mind. Why had the Death Eaters chosen his parents and not one of the others? He knew how unfair it was to think that, but he couldn’t help doing so.

“Kingsley used to live in a village with a high magical population,” Alice said. “Witches and wizards who might have come to his aid if he had been attacked.”  
Had he asked his question aloud after all? Or had his mother read his mind? He had never expected this from her but after seeing the memories; he knew that she was a Legilimens as well.  
“Cordelia has proven that she doesn’t give away information once before, they might have expected her to do so again.”  
Neville tried to keep his thoughts to himself. If his mother started to look into his mind, he had to take the necessary measures so he didn’t upset her with any of his thoughts. He thought it quite possible that Lestrange hadn’t wanted to attack his former patient Cordelia Savage. He still spoke very well about her.  
“The fact that we did our best to get them into Azkaban might have been a reason too,” Alice added.  
“I remembered that too,” Neville said. “You came home from work and told Dad that they let them go.”  
When Neville looked at his mother’s face now, he saw a hint of the anger he had seen in her back then. “Yes, that’s right. If they hadn’t received special treatment because of their family’s position you would probably have grown up with us.” Her voice sounded very bitter now. Neville couldn’t blame her. He had felt the same way after waking up.  
“It’s been my own fault as well though,” Alice said. “I should have trusted my feeling rather than follow these orders without questioning them. No one would have blamed me for treating them a bit harshly if it had allowed us to capture Voldemort’s right hand woman as well as her husband and brother. I wouldn’t have broken any law, we were allowed to use any force necessary.”

Neville bit into his pancake, thinking. This remark came rather unexpectedly. The question was out before he could stop himself. “Were you able to use the Unforgivable Curses too?” He wished he could take it back as soon as he had asked, but to his relief, his mother didn’t seem to be upset.  
“Yes, it was part of our training,” she said calmly. “Every Auror had to learn how to use them.”  
So this was true, Neville thought. Bellatrix had claimed that the Aurors had routinely used Unforgivable Curses as well but Neville had never really believed that. Three of the eight Cruciatus cures patients he had treated after the war had been tortured at the Ministry but Neville had assumed that this had been an effect of the hopeless situation during the last months of Scrimgeour’s time in office. Or the deed of people like Umbridge. Neville hadn’t known any of the perpetrators; none of them had been close to Dumbledore or the Order.  
Neville just had to ask. “Did you ever use them?” He didn’t add “on people”, she’d be able to guess that anyway.  
“We’ve used the Imperius curse quite frequently,” Alice admitted. “At the beginning, we were all very reluctant to do so, thought it was dishonourable. This changed pretty quickly though. The more people died, the less people cared about this kind of thing. It’s extremely useful if someone tries to resist capture. Most Death Eaters weren’t able to fight it off.”  
Neville could understand that. A form of magic very much like the Imperius curse if not called the same was used at the hospital as well and had been before Voldemort had taken over. It wasn’t harmful in itself; he had experienced it himself without any damage after all. It depended on the way it was used. 

“I’ve never been able to do the Cruciatus curse “properly”. I used to use it on trainee Aurors at the beginning of R&S-training though.”  
Neville had never heard of R&S-training but it was quite clear what it was.  
“When they could deal with mine, they were thought able to face the real thing from someone who could actually do it.”  
That was almost exactly what the Carrows had done with Neville, unwittingly of course. They had asked other students to perform the curse on him but none of them, not even Crabbe and Goyle had been able to do it properly. Neville didn’t believe that this had anything to do with Crabbe and Goyle’s lack of evil though. Lack of talent more likely. Afterwards, he had been able to resist the Carrows’ own curse much better as well. It had never been as bad as the first time anymore.  
“I can’t deny that I saw it being used though,” Alice continued. “I’ve argued against it but most of the time, this was overruled. I didn’t attack my colleagues to protect a Death Eater of course.”  
“So it was really regularly used at the Ministry?” Neville asked. As far as this issue was concerned he had done Bellatrix wrong by believing that she had lied.  
“Not regularly,” Alice said a hint of defiance in her voice. “In some situations, when the lives of innocent people were at stake. We couldn’t value the well-being of a Death Eater higher than their lives, could we? A few people who were a bit too quick to use it existed as well but I didn’t have too much to do with them. I’ve only used the third one once and I’ve never told anyone about it. It doesn’t really matter anymore though I think.”

Neville looked at her. He was wondering what she was going to tell him next. She hadn’t murdered anyone, had she?  
“There was this Death Eater called Jeremy Wilkes. Scrimgeour and Proudfoot interrogated him and well, Proudfoot was one of the people I’ve just mentioned.”  
The name Proudfoot was very familiar to Neville as well. This Auror had been involved in the torture of two of his three patients.  
“He was in a pretty bad state and they asked me to take him to Azkaban. At first, he begged me to let him go but I couldn’t do that of course. He was a Death Eater who had killed one of us, probably more. When we reached the shore and I wanted to get him into the boat, he asked me to kill him. He knew he was going to die in there soon and so did I. He told me that he didn’t want to die alone in a dark cell while reliving his pain and I just couldn’t take him to the Dementors. So I did it. I cast that curse on a human being, for the first and the last time. A flash of green light and he was gone. The Dementors buried him and I said it had been a heart attack when he met them. Marlene was the only one who guessed the truth but she understood.”  
Neville swallowed hard. One of his patients, the Auror Williamson had asked the same thing of him, again and again. He had wanted Neville to give him poison to end his life. Neville however had sworn an oath that forbad this kind of thing and Williamson’s situation hadn’t really been hopeless at all. He had eventually recovered and later fled the country with Kingsley’s help.  
Neville had never thought about Azkaban too much. During his childhood, he had been glad that it was a safe place keeping his parents’ torturers away and later, he had mainly been worried about the various break-outs. Nowadays Azkaban wasn’t used as a prison anymore and the Death Eaters kept their prisoners in secret places. Neville had preferred not to know about the details so far.  
“Wilkes was in my year at Hogwarts, Slytherin of course,” Alice continued. “He wasn’t really a bad or evil person back then, always quick with a joke. This was one of the few things that made me question what we were fighting for and if it’s worth it. I saw him in front of me every time I went to Azkaban afterwards.”

“Being involved in this war must have been very, very hard,” Neville said.  
For the first time, she was actually talking about this, he thought. So far, he had always been under the impression that she thought longingly back to her earlier life, but today, she acknowledged that there had been bad things as well. His Memory Potion seemed to have brought some of her memories to the surface as well. He wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or if it would torment her even more.  
“Yes, it was hard but that wasn’t all there was to it,” Alice said. “This kind of thing wasn’t happening frequently, I’d hate you to believe it did. What I just told you was one of my worst memories, apart from those where I’ve lost my best friends. Dorcas, Marlene, Lily, they were all killed. You know about Lily of course, Dorcas has tried to fight Voldemort and died while Marlene and her family have been brutally murdered by an entire group of Death Eaters. We never found all the people responsible, the only one who was apprehended was Quentin Travers. Marlene was a teacher as well as a friend to me. Dorcas was another Auror while Lily made potions for the order. We were like sisters; well the entire Order was like a big family. A family which also had a few more difficult members,” she laughed slightly. “But which family doesn’t?”  
The laughter was gone from her face again. “There’s been a traitor as well of course. I’ve never really trusted Pettigrew but I thought it was unfair to accuse the most fearful one because he’s fearful. It never occurred to me that the Potters would choose him for their Secret Keeper though. Even if he had been well-meaning, he would never have had a chance to resist if the Death Eaters had caught him. If I had known, I would have told them not to choose him of course. Lily and I actually planned to be each other’s Secret Keepers but James didn’t want it and Dumbledore disagreed as well. He thought it would be too obvious.” She sighed. “You know how it ended.”

“Yes, I do,” Neville said. The Potters had been killed and so had their son Harry by now.  
“I know, these times must sound horrible to you,” Alice said now. “But they weren’t really. Not while we were in the middle of it. We were living much more intensely, you know. Knowing that every day could be our last made us cherish every peaceful moment we had. Many of us became really close during that time. And we always believed that we were doing the right thing. With the Order, I never doubted this for a second.” She spoke in an impassioned manner that Neville couldn’t remember having heard from her before.  
“We got killed one after another but during the war, we barely had any time to grieve. I knew that I might die really soon and I was okay with that in a way. The idea of sacrificing my life for the cause didn’t scare me. As strange as it sounds, I felt almost invulnerable at the same time. I had been in so many tight situations, faced Voldemort himself three times and each time, there had been a way to escape, some sort of miraculous rescue. Part of me believed that it would go on and on like that, that Frank and I would always escape. Probably, making myself believe this was the only way to deal with it. When the Potters died, everything changed. For the first time I realised how many people I had lost, how many friends I would never see again in this world. I started having nightmares. My dead comrades were there, I revisited many of the crime scenes I had been to but I also heard the screams of the prisoners in Azkaban. Many of them claimed they were innocent. We sent more than fifty people there but Voldemort only broke out ten. The rest must have been innocent, dead or so ill they’re no use to him anymore.”

Neville had realised one thing by now. His mother had suffered many terrible things he had never imagined. Neville had never had much to do with the Order of the Phoenix during the war. This way he hadn’t known what life had been like for them.  
“If you hadn’t been there, I probably would have had trouble living in this new, seemingly more peaceful world,” Alice said. “But you’ve always reminded me of the good things, of the fact that life goes on.” She smiled slightly. “You’ve been a bit difficult sometimes too and distracted us.”  
Neville took the last, cold pancake and ate it. He didn’t want it to be left over.  
“That’s why I was so nervous about Frank’s task,” she said. “I haven’t been like this in the past. I hated to sit at home waiting for him and unable to do anything. The Death Eaters had been arrested or released; Auror department had become a lot less busy. When he returned, we only had two days together. You know the rest of the story.”

Neville swallowed. She still didn’t wish to talk about it and he couldn’t claim that he really minded. He didn’t know how he was supposed to deal with it because he couldn’t treat his mother like one of his patients. The necessary distance in this kind of professional relationship just didn’t exist between them and he didn’t want it to.  
The other things she had told him about were disturbing enough. He had had no idea what the war against Voldemort had really been like the first time and hadn’t known about the terrible things she had been forced to witness and endure even before the final attack. Murdered friends, traitors among people you considered your extended family, and, most shockingly, the image of his mother in the role of the enforcer for a rather cruel government. He had never really thought about this, the cases of people tortured by the Ministry had been isolated cases, caused by the black sheep of the institution, by people like Umbridge. He wasn’t so sure about that anymore.  
“Let’s wash the dishes now,” Alice said. Neville knew that this discussion was over. At least for now.  
“Susan has sent an owl by the way. The children are doing really well.”  
Neville was glad to hear that. He had been worried about leaving Deborah with another family but obviously, she got on better than he had thought. So at least his daughter hadn’t suffered from his Memory Potion-induced illness.


	12. Apple and Phoenix Feather

There was something unreal about being back here, Frank thought. Magical Belgrade hadn’t changed much. If anything, it looked a bit more crowded than 23 years ago.   
Frank knew that the same was not true for the non-magical parts of Serbia. A terrible war had ravaged this part of the world, Frank had read about it in horror in 1999, his first year in the Muggle world. The war probably explained why there seemed to be more people in the magical quarter of the city. Serbian witches and wizards had sought refuge in places that were magically protected from guns and bombs which would kill them just like they killed the Muggles if no special protective measures were taken.  
The war was over now but Frank knew that it was anything but forgotten. That was the reason why he had only spent as much time as absolutely necessary among the Muggles even though he had arrived the Muggle way. He didn’t know enough to act appropriately among them; at least that was what he thought. Still, he had considered it safer to travel as the Muggle Frank Logan. Magical means of transportation were controlled by witches and wizards, it was hardly possible to leave or enter a country by magic without being detected. Frank had wanted to avoid this at any cost. No one knew what he was up to, his Muggle colleagues believed he had finally decided to go on a holiday even though they didn’t understand why he had chosen Serbia of all places.

Frank had a very good reason to be here however. He wanted to revisit the places where he had found signs of Voldemort’s presence on his last journey. It was quite possible that Voldemort had chosen one of those places to hide his Horcrux or at least Frank hoped that this was possible. He didn’t really know where the Horcrux might be but he assumed that Voldemort wouldn’t leave it in Britain but rather abroad where no one expected him to hide anything of importance to him. If he even knew that someone had found out, Frank wasn’t sure about that.   
First of all, Frank had another task to complete. He had already changed money and bought himself a few sets of new robes but he was still missing the object most important to any wizard, his wand. Frank didn’t want to waste anymore time before getting one, he remembered the fate that had befallen Dawlish and the others in this place much too well to be careless. There might be Death Eaters as well, Voldemort would surely try to gain influence outside of the UK.   
These dangers couldn’t keep Frank from feeling something close to happiness and a slight excitement as he was walking among magical people once more. None of them seemed to notice anything odd about him. What had happened to him was clearly not as obvious to spot as he had feared when sitting alone in his rented Muggle house. 

Frank hoped that the pretty young English-speaking wandmaker they had met the last time he had visited Belgrade was still here. Even though the street was even more rickety than Diagon Alley, Frank found Jovanovic’s wand-shop rather quickly. The shop at least did still exist which meant he could finally get a wand again. Longing stirred in him as he gazed upon the small boxes lining the shelves of the wand-shop. Frank had accepted the inevitable during the last years but now he realised that he had always missed being in possession of a wand. Sometimes his service gun had felt like something of a substitute but never really. It wasn’t connected to his magic in any way after all.   
For some reason, getting a wand abroad had never occurred to him before.  
Today, Frank was lucky. The young wandmaker had turned into a middle-aged woman but she was still there. At the moment, she was applying a locking charm to her cash till. So she wanted to close the shop already? Frank had to be quick.  
He walked into the shop, a bell rang.  
“Good afternoon, Madam Jovanovic.”  
The woman looked up. “Good afternoon, Mister. What can I do for you?”  
“I’m looking for a wand.”   
Frank really hoped that she wouldn’t tell him to wait another day. He wanted to end his wandless state as quickly as possible now.   
The wandmaker looked at him intently. Understanding dawned on her. “You’re Frank Longbottom,” she whispered. “So you did keep your promise to visit me again.”  
Frank was startled. It had been 23 years since he had met this woman and they had only spent a few days with her. The fact that she was still able to recognize him so quickly disturbed him. People he didn’t want to recognize him would be able to do so as well.   
She walked towards the door and tapped it with her wand. The shutters went down. 

“Frank Longbottom, the British Auror who took on the Red Lethifold without a second’s hesitation,” Madam Jovanovic said. “We owe it to you and your team that our Aurors finally got their act together and put an end to this lot.”  
The Red Lethifold had been a secret society of dark witches and wizards who had sold dangerous dark objects among a number of other illegal activities. They had captured the first team of Aurors sent to the Balkans looking for Voldemort and killed one member. Frank and his colleagues had been able to save the others.   
“I’m glad to hear that they’ve been dealt with,” Frank said.  
“So am I, so am I,” Madam Jovanovic said.   
“I’d really like to get my wand now,” Frank said. “We can talk afterwards.”  
“Yes, of course. I’m surprised to see you looking for a wand here though. You’ve all refused to try my wands and believed that no one can compare to your Ollivander.” She laughed.   
“I apologize for any offense we might have given,” Frank said quickly.  
“None taken,” Madam Jovanovic said. “I’ve really not been that good back then. Only just finished my apprenticeship with Gregorovitch.”   
She sighed deeply. “Horrible thing that happened to him by the way.”  
“May I ask what’s happened to him? I’ve been a bit out of touch with the wizarding world recently.”  
“Of course you may ask. He’s been murdered and tortured. Your Dark Lord got him but not after killing the innocent family who had moved into his former retirement home in the Black Forest.”  
“I’m sorry to hear that.” It was so much like Voldemort. “Don’t call him “my Dark Lord” though. I have nothing to do with this person or rather creature.”  
“I didn’t mean it that way,” Madam Jovanovic hurried to explain. “It’s just; well he’s ruling your country now, that’s why I said that. I know you tried to capture him back then.”

“If only we had been successful,” Frank said grimly.  
“Don’t blame yourself; he was too powerful for three Aurors. Maybe you should have accepted help but I understand why you didn’t. Especially after the disaster with the Red Lethifold. Can’t really blame you for doubting our competence.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve heard what’s happened to you and your wife when you returned.”  
“They’ve been talking about this here?” Frank had really hoped that foreign witches and wizards wouldn’t know about his shame. So far, Madam Jovanovic hadn’t acted as if she did know.   
“It’s been on the newspapers all over Europe,” the wandmaker said, confirming Frank’s worst fears. “Everyone was shocked to see how deeply people can sink if they get involved too much into the dark arts. We’ve all been so impressed by your determination to resist. I’ve always known you’d prove stronger than that curse in the end and I was right.”  
“I’ve done nothing admirable. It would have been my duty to protect my family but I failed.”  
“Even the best can lose a battle if their out-numbered and taken by surprise,” Madam Jovanovic said. “You’re too harsh on yourself. Let’s get you your new wand now I’d say.”  
Frank nodded. He preferred this to any more discussions of the attack as well.   
“I wasn’t very good yet back then but I assure you I have improved. I’m sure you will find an appropriate wand here,” she promised. “Try this one. Maple and dragon heartstring.”   
Frank took the wand but nothing happened. He wasn’t too surprised though. You hardly ever found a matching wand at your first attempt.   
When Frank had tried eight different wands and none of them had shown even the slightest hint of connection with his magic, he started to worry. Maybe the wand he had lost really was the only one which had suited him and now that he had it taken from him, he’d never find another one again.   
“What has your old wand been made of?” Madam Jovanovic asked. “Maybe a similar one will work best for you.”  
“Rowan and unicorn hair,” Frank explained.   
“Well, I have three wands made of rowan and tail hairs from male unicorns, maybe one of them will suit you,” Madam Jovanovic suggested.

They weren’t lucky however. The three wands stayed as dead in Frank’s hand as the ones he had tried before and the same went for all the other rowan wands.   
Frank tried not to be too disappointed. “Which one would you recommend me under these circumstances? I’ve learned to use wands that aren’t matched to me as well.”  
“Let’s not give up so quickly,” Madam Jovanovic said. “I’ve still got many wands you haven’t tried yet.”  
“I don’t want to waste too much of your free afternoon,” Frank said.   
“Don’t worry. I’m not very busy at the moment anyway. It’s still a while till school starts and there aren’t many customers at the moment.”   
She scratched her head, absentmindedly. “Yes, we could try this of course. It’s very different from your first one but why not? Wait a moment.”  
She walked through a door in the back of her shop and returned with another wand a few moments later. “This one’s brand new. One of those I just wanted to pack up and put into the shelves this afternoon. I’m not sure but I’ve got a feeling, well try it out.”

Frank took the wand from her hand. Immediately, he felt warmth in his finger and his head was full of memories he had almost forgotten, memories of the Prewett brothers’ laughing faces, of Alice, Dorcas and Lily giggling over some stupid article in Witch Weekly, only to look very embarrassed the moment they realised how inappropriate this was for women of their position, Dumbledore giving his speeches about having the courage to fight for the right thing together, Kingsley trying to flirt with a young Andela Jovanovic while Cordelia said beside them with a rather grim look on her face and so many more.   
A silvery fox jumped from the wand and ran around the room before vanishing into thin air; it almost looked like Frank’s Patronus even though he hadn’t cast the charm at all.  
“Very good,” a smiling Madam Jovanovic said. “I knew we’d find the right one. Applewood and phoenix feather.”  
Applewood and phoenix feather, hearing what his new wand was made of gave Frank a warm feeling that wasn’t unlike what he had felt when he had taken the wand into his hand. The apple tree was the Longbottom family’s symbol while the phoenix had been that of Dumbledore’s Order. Being chosen by such a wand meant, had to mean, that Frank might not have failed either after all. Alice had been a witch and Auror and a member of the Order in her own right. She had wanted him to stay silent rather than speak for her sake; she had told him so twice. She just like him had chosen pain and death over treachery, it wasn’t Frank’s fault, it was the fault of those who had attacked them and in the end that of Lord Voldemort. For the first time in so many years, Frank felt whole again, as if the wand had been a piece of him that had been missing. He was Frank Longbottom and he did deserve to bear that name. No one could take this away from him, least of all a bunch of people who had enslaved themselves to a dark wizard.

“Thank you very much,” he said. “I’ll take this one of course.”  
“I knew we’d find something for you,” Madam Jovanovic said. “Would you like to come up with me for a cup of coffee? I have some of my cheese cake as well.” She laughed slightly. Frank remembered very well why. During their last visit, the three of them had ignored all rules of “constant vigilance” and eaten plenty of her cake. They had been lucky, Madam Jovanovic really hadn’t meant to poison them and Frank was quite certain that she didn’t want to do it now either. He also hoped that she might have more information about the ongoings in the wizarding world. He had hardly found out anything after fleeing from Saint Mungo’s.  
“I can’t say no to that now, can I?”   
The wandmaker’s flat hadn’t changed much since Frank’s last visit, her family life obviously hadn’t either, she still seemed to be living alone. In honour of Moody, Frank did accompany her to the kitchen so he could see what she was doing with the cake. He hoped she didn’t know why.  
When both of them had settled down with coffee and cake, Madam Jovanovic said: “I’d like to tell you how your new wand came to be. It’s a rather unusual story actually. I’ve recently been to the school for the Muggle-born program and when I left, I saw a magnificent phoenix sitting on the apple tree on the school grounds.”  
Frank took a mental note to ask about the “Muggle-born program”, he had never heard of anything like that before. He desperately hoped it didn’t mean that Muggle-borns were being hunted here as well. It was politer to let her finish first though. Her cake was as delicious as it had been during their first visit. 

“I paused to watch him, wild phoenixes are really rare. The phoenix began to sing, a song so beautiful and yet so sad. I’m not a very sentimental woman but this song made me cry. When he had finished his song, the phoenix flew over me and dropped a single feather into my lap. I was astonished; normally getting a phoenix feather for use in a wand takes plenty of discussing and pleading even from tame phoenixes. I took it of course and thanked him. He flew away and I decided to use wood of the very apple tree from our school garden because he had met me there. That’s how you’re wand was made.”  
“Thank you for telling me,” Frank said quietly. He didn’t know it for sure but he had this feeling that the phoenix in question might have been Fawkes, Dumbledore’s bird, the one the Order had been named after. There were many aspects of magic even the best wizards didn’t understand, Dumbledore had come further than most in exploring them. After everything that had happened, Frank had been chosen like this and he would do what he could to prove himself worthy this time.  
“May I ask you something?”  
“Yes, certainly. Whatever you like. I can’t promise answers to everything though.  
“What did you mean when you were talking about a Muggle-born program?” 

“Well, you might have heard about the Muggle wars that have happened here. The land’s been divided, all the peoples wanted their own country and many terrible crimes have been committed. While everyone’s had their own Ministry of Magic already, the only magical school is here in Serbia. There aren’t enough witches and wizards to have schools in every country. You can imagine how difficult this has been for the Muggle-borns I’m sure. Many of them have seen terrible things; a few of them are children of rape. All of a sudden, they had to share classes with the children of people they considered deadly enemies. We knew that we had to help them, that’s why the Muggle-born program was created. The Muggle-borns are taken in a year before school starts and get to know each other and the magical community. This way they learn that the situation is different here and that they don’t have anything to fear from each other. Every Muggle-born child gets a witch or wizard to mentor them and help them. It is still very hard for many of them but it’s slowly improving. It will take long until those wounds can heal though if ever.”  
Frank felt ashamed for his initial thoughts. He was deeply impressed by this. While the magical “community” in his own country did everything to exclude Muggle-borns, the people here went so such length to make them feel welcome and help them become a part of magical society. At least it showed him one thing, there was still good in the world and he was certain that decent people hadn’t died out in magical Britain either.  
“That’s really admirable,” he said. “Especially considering the way Muggle-borns are being treated in so many other places.”

“We have our fair share of idiots too,” Madam Jovanovic said pushing a strand of brown hair out of her face. “Some people believe that the wars have proven that Muggles are vicious beasts and that we can’t admit their children. Usually, a detailed account of the British wizarding war is rather helpful in shutting them up though. Sorry to be so blunt but it’s true.”  
“I can’t deny it is,” Frank said. His eyes fell upon something which looked like a news paper cutting. To his surprise, it was in English.   
“Do they sell the Daily Prophet here?” he asked, curious about news from his home even if they were filtered by Death Eater propaganda. The British wizarding community tended to act as if there were no other countries but he had already learned during his earlier journeys that this wasn’t true for the rest of Europe.   
“No, the Ministry has banned it after the takeover by the current government,” Madam Jovanovic explained. “They say it’s full of propaganda by a criminal regime and I don’t doubt they’re right. We do have international newspapers here though.”  
She picked up the newspaper article Frank had been looking at. “This is from the Tel Aviv Magical News. Anthony Goldstein’s touring Europe. Have a look, this might interest you.”  
According to the article, Anthony Goldstein was a man about the age Neville would have been who had been living in Great Britain in the past. His family had immigrated to Israel after Voldemort came to power. Mr Goldstein claimed to have first-hand knowledge about Voldemort’s second raise to power and had written a book called “Dumbledore’s Army and the Truth about Lord Voldemort.” He was travelling all through Europe now to present his book. 

“Could I have this? I might attend one of those meetings when my business here is finished,” Frank said.  
“Yes. His stay in Zagreb is over anyway. I considered going there but was too busy with my mentee student. She got in a bit of trouble you see and I know enough about this matter anyway.”  
Frank thanked her and put the article into his bag.   
“Going there’s a bit dangerous but I’m sure you don’t mind,” Madam Jovanovic said. “Presenting his book is only a pretext for Goldstein you see. In fact, he’s trying to warn people of You-Know-Who and his attempts to destabilize and influence other European countries. It’s open knowledge that he tries to extend his power.”  
“Very important work he’s doing there,” Frank said. This new bit of information only strengthened his determination to meet Anthony Goldstein if possible.  
“Yes. The Israeli Ministry is the most vocal about taking measures against the Death Eater government. They keep demanding sanctions at the International Confederation of Wizards because of “systematic human rights violations”, “encouragement of abusive magic use on Muggles” and “preparations for a war of aggression” but so far, they couldn’t decide on anything.”  
This wasn’t very surprising to Frank. Dumbledore had always complained about inefficiency of the International Confederation of Wizards. They hadn’t been able to pass an international degree to capture Death Eaters outside of Britain more easily either.   
“This might change now though,” Madam Jovanovic said. “The Russians are considering their neutral stance since Death Eaters attempted to assassinate Durmstrang Headmistress Achatowa. The relations between Germany and the Death Eaters have worsened considerably after this too. Quite a few of their children attend Durmstrang and Headmistress Achatowa is highly respected. The Death Eaters claim that German dark wizards attempted to stage an attack in Britain. The German Ministry doesn’t believe a word of it and they threatened consequences if Bellatrix Lestrange didn’t hand the German prisoners over unharmed. She did it, probably realised that refusing would bring them more trouble than it was worth.”

Frank tried to order the new information in his head. He wasn’t sure how he felt about other countries interfering with the British magical community. It would probably be better than no threats to Voldemort at all but he’d still prefer if they solved the problem themselves. Bellatrix was in charge of something like the Death Eater Department of Magical Law-Enforcement now; it was outrageous but still not too surprising. Frank was more surprised by the fact that she had obviously put diplomatic considerations above a desire for revenge or whatever had made her capture those Germans.  
“Do you know if there’s any form of resistance in the UK? I’ve been living in the Muggle world even since I’ve been out of hospital, that’s why I have really no idea.”  
Madam Jovanovic put a strand of hair behind her ear again.”I’m sorry but I didn’t hear anything. The British seem to have accepted it. The Death Eaters seem to apply a clever mixture of threats and benefits. The nastier stuff is happening behind closed doors now and the common people are lulled into a feeling of security as long as they keep quiet. They’re not killing and torturing openly anymore, if someone causes trouble, he or she simply vanishes. No one knows what’s happening to them. They don’t seem to have any public laws, decisions are made at the Dark Lord’s and the Death Eaters’ whim. I hate to admit it, but even most people abroad don’t like to hear the truth. A man called Lee Jordan was the last one who managed to escape their prison system and he was talking about atrocious crimes. He’s living in exile in Germany now like many others, they’re taking people in quite liberally but don’t really encourage them to speak up. Now that the winds are changing this might become different though.”

Frank took a deep breath. He hated the idea that his people were so down-trodden now. The vast majority of them had hated Voldemort even if they hadn’t had the courage to join the Order. He hoped that there was a resistance after all; a resistance which wasn’t known to foreign media because then it would be known to Voldemort and his Death Eaters as well. He needed to reach them somehow but he didn’t know how he was supposed to do that.  
“I can’t deny that I’m scared of the future,” Madam Jovanovic said. “If I’m reading the signs rightly, something really bad is brewing. I know what war has done to the Muggles here and I’m afraid to think of the things it might do to us if there was really a wizarding war all over Europe. That’s why I understand why so many governments prefer to keep quiet though it’s not right of course. I do think we should do something but an international war which kills countless people can’t be the answer. It’s been bad enough during the Grindelwald years when wizards and Muggles lost their minds at the same time.”  
“I agree,” Frank said. “The fewer innocent people are dragged into this the better. Do you really think that You-Know-Who will stand a chance against Europe? There are far more witches and wizards here, at least if he doesn’t have any countries allied with him. He doesn’t, does he?”

“Not entire countries, no,” Madam Jovanovic said. “The Ministries are either neutral or oppose him. He has started to create Death Eater groups all over Europe though and every country has people who are drawn to power, dark magic and the idea that they’re better than others. I’m sure he’s been successful in many places. We can’t tell how strong they would be and how easily they could help in the destruction of their home countries.”  
“In this land as well?” Frank wanted to know.  
“The Croatians caught a group of five Death Eaters led by one Englishman. They attempted to attack Anthony Goldstein’s speech. They’ve tightened security now or so I’ve heard. If they’re in Croatia, it’s reasonable to assume that they’re here as well though there’s been no evidence sure enough to be given to the public so far.”  
Frank nodded. “I’m glad I’ve got a wand now.” He really didn’t fancy facing Death Eaters without one.  
“So the Death Eaters don’t know you’ve survived,” Madam Jovanovic asked.  
“I don’t think so,” Frank said. “Either that or they thought I’d gone abroad long ago. Well, now I’m here and I have a job to do. I hope no one other than you has recognised me.”  
As nice as talking to Madam Jovanovic was, he needed to get going before the Death Eaters found out about his presence.   
“If your job involves a trip to Albania be warned,” Madam Jovanovic said. “It’s extremely difficult and dangerous to get there the Muggle way and the wizards are watching their borders for anyone who wants to get in the magical way.”

Frank was startled. “What makes you think I might want to go there?”  
Madam Jovanovic simply smiled. “Well, you’ve gone there last time so I think it’s reasonable to assume you might wish to go there again.”  
Frank remained silent. He didn’t really wish to share his plans with her but she was probably right. He wouldn’t be able to get to Albania on his own without attracting trouble, even attempting to destroy the Horcrux alone if he ever found it wasn’t a very reasonable plan. Last time, he had remained silent and the consequences had been disastrous. This time, he’d have to inform other people or he’d fail and failure wasn’t an option. The fate of wizarding Britain might depend on the destruction of the Horcrux.  
“I wouldn’t have asked for no reason,” Madam Jovanovic said. “As enjoyable as your company is, you might have already guessed that I didn’t make this cake for you. Yesterday, I’ve had two other visitors. One of them a good friend of mine, Nada Zoric, Ministry dark arts expert, the other an Auror from, you might have guessed it, Albania.”  
This was interesting news indeed. “Is he trustworthy?”   
“Nada’s sure he is and I trust her,” Madam Jovanovic said. “He’s had a big part in the weeding out of dark organisations in Albania and he’s known for his strong morals. I’m certain that he has no love for the Death Eaters. He could easily get people to look for whatever or whoever it is you’re looking for. People who’ve not been ill and wandless for years. You’re extremely brave and knowledgeable but that doesn’t mean you don’t have to bring your magic into shape again before you delve into battle.”

Frank hated to admit it but he knew she was right. The last time he had used his magic had been when he had faked his documents. It had worked which meant that there was no severe damage but it had taken extremely long. If he was the same in battle, he’d stand no chance against a powerful dark wizard or against any dark spell upon the Horcrux.  
“Do you think you could arrange a meeting between me and those people?”  
“Certainly. That’s what I was going to suggest.   
“Alright,” Frank said. “Let’s try it this way. And thank you very much for helping me again. You’ve already done so much for us last time. We’d never have been able to save our colleagues if you hadn’t told us about the Red Lethifold.”  
“I’m a wandmaker and not a warrioress but that doesn’t mean that I’m not doing my best to assist those who fight for our safety,” Madam Jovanovic said. “And I’m sure you need every bit of help you can get if you really attempt to take on that dark regime on your own.”


	13. Family Time

Neville believed that it would be best if his mother talked about her experience in the war with the other Order members who had been there as well. For them, understanding what she had gone through back then would be much easier than for Neville who had never experienced this. She seemed inclined to heed this advice and accompany him to the next visit.  
Thinking about the Order made Neville think of Ginny again as well. He still didn’t know how to help her and he hadn’t seen her for quite a while. At the moment, he wasn’t able to do anything for them anyway because his magic was still too instable. He wanted to change that as quickly as possible though. His patients needed him and he wasn’t supposed to be ill himself for too long.   
Under his mother’s guidance he began to do the RMP. His first attempts were disheartening. Neville felt almost as if someone had forced him to undertake time travel back into his first year at Hogwarts. His spells either failed completely or they had completely unintended effects.

“Don’t worry, that’s normal at the beginning,” his mother told him. “I wasn’t able to do a single spell. At first I gave up because I believed that my magic was gone. Later I was so bored that I tried again and after a few times, I was suddenly able to do it again. I’m sure this will happen with you as well.”  
Neville had seen similar in his patients but he still lacked confidence in his own magical abilities. He was scared that even if his magic returned, it wouldn’t be good enough to allow him to work as a Healer anymore.  
Hannah was very busy for three days with her Quidditch tournament. She invited Alice and Neville to attend but neither wanted to do so. Neville was still on sick leave and didn’t want to be seen in public and his mother preferred to stay out of the spotlight. The news Hannah brought after the last day reassured both of them that they had made the right decision.  
“The Dark Lord was there himself,” Hannah said. “He’s presented the winners of the professional competition with the cup. He doesn’t look anything like You-Know-Who did in the past anymore. More like a rather handsome man with dark hair. Safe for the red eyes.”  
She seemed to be rather impressed by this meeting, Neville thought. His mother obviously got the same impression. “Not going to become a Death Eater now, are you?” she asked rather coldly.  
“Me, a Death Eater? No, of course not. I’m not the kind of person they’re looking for. By the way, Madam Lestrange sends you her regards, Neville. She hopes you’ll soon be well again.”  
“Ehm, well, yes thank you,” Neville said.   
“She was there with the Dark Lord. My colleagues were quite surprised that she talked to me like that.”  
Neville didn’t know what to do about the situation. Hannah was obviously quite taken by Voldemort’s appearance and also by the way other people had reacted to the fact that the woman who accompanied him was interested in her husband’s well-being. She probably didn’t know how much Alice hated this. Subtly changing the subject was the only thing he could think of.  
“Which Quidditch team has won the cup?” he asked without really caring one way or the other.

The situation between Alice and Hannah remained rather tense even though Alice didn’t acknowledge it openly and Hannah didn’t seem to realise it. Unlike Alice, she had accepted the new political situation and tried to make the best of it now. Neville knew that this probably was the most sensible course of action. There was no real chance to change it any time soon, the number of people who wished to resist was far too small for that. Neville did his best to help and protect them but there wasn’t much more he could do. After everything he had heard from his mother, he didn’t think he really wanted a resurgence of this war either. Especially not against the will of the majority of wizarding Britain who were quite satisfied with the way things were now. 

The weather which had been rather rainy all week turned sunny when it was time to fetch Francis and Deborah from the Macmillan’s. Hannah suggested celebrating the good weather, Neville’s recovery and the children’s return with a barbecue party. Neville had no objections. He wasn’t sure if it was the fresh air, the smell of the plants or the sun, but as soon as he could practice his magic outside, it started to improve and soon worked properly again. He was immensely relieved.   
There was one thing he wasn’t so glad about however. Lestrange wanted to check his magic before he returned to work and Neville had to meet him again for that. He had no idea what exactly the Death Eater had seen in his mind during Neville’s illness and he was a bit scared of the next meeting. Hiding from the truth wasn’t helpful either though and he obviously hadn’t found anything which made him take immediate action. So he sent his owl to the Lestranges, requesting a meeting. 

Francis and Deborah had both enjoyed their time with the Macmillans and their children. Amelia, their daughter was about their age; her brothers Brian and Simon were six and four. Neville was glad to hear that Debbie hadn’t suffered from nightmares or been homesick while with the other family.  
The Macmillans had also attended the Quidditch tournament but Francis was more interested in the game than in Voldemort’s appearance. He kept talking enthusiastically about his favourite players while they were sitting in the garden and enjoying steaks, sausages, potatoes, peppers and corn cobs from the fire. Even Alice seemed to have a healthy appetite this evening. Neville was quite happy. There was only one thing he wished for. His father should be there as well, finally getting to know his grandchildren. Neville really hoped that he was well wherever he was.   
Neville and Hannah were holding hands. “I’m so glad you’re well again,” she said. “We’ve been really worried. Please don’t do this kind of thing again.”  
“I don’t think I’ll have to,” Neville said. “My magic’s fine now I think.”  
“I hope so. This has been quite a struggle,” Hannah said. “I’m really glad Lestrange agreed to help you.”

“Dad, will you buy me a broom?”  
Neville wasn’t unhappy about this distraction by Francis. “We’ve already talked about this. You’re too young to have one.”  
“Do you really think so, Neville?” Hannah asked. “The Death Eater children his age all have their own brooms already. Why shouldn’t we get him one too? He’s really good. You want him to play for Gryffindor one day, don’t you?”  
“You see, Dad, Mum says so as well,” Francis said.  
Neville sighed. “I’ll think about it. Maybe for your birthday.” The twins had been born in June, the wait wasn’t too long.   
Francis smiled. “Thank you Dad.”  
Deborah looked at Neville. He needed to think of a similarly expensive present he could get for her. Anything else would be unfair.   
“Ehm, Dad,” Deborah said and Neville expected her to voice a birthday wish of her own. She didn’t want to request anything like that though.   
“You know, I think I want to visit Roxy,” she said. “I know that I’m not having bad dreams or anything when I’m staying with someone else now. I won’t embarrass you. I’d really like to spend more time with her.”  
Neville and his mother shared a long glance. Neither of them wanted this of course, but they didn’t know how to explain it to the child either.  
“The Lestranges invited you?” Hannah asked before either of the others could say anything.  
“Yes, a few weeks ago,” Deborah said. “I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go but I’d like to now.”   
“Of course you can go,” Hannah said. Deborah smiled.   
Neville coughed. He didn’t know what had happened during this Quidditch tournament but it had really aroused Hannah’s enthusiasm for the world of the Death Eaters. She should have known that he wanted to discuss this kind of thing with her before a decision was made. It was impossible for him to say no now however. The children would want to know why he was so opposed to Debbie staying with her best friend and his employer’s family. It didn’t make any sense if they didn’t learn what had happened but Neville didn’t want them to know. Especially not Deborah and not at this age.   
Arguing with Hannah over this could lead to trouble as well. She didn’t know that he was secretly supporting Voldemort’s enemies and Neville wanted this to remain that way. So far, he had done this because he wanted to keep her safe, now he realised that she would probably disapprove of it as well. 

The atmosphere had tensed considerably now. Alice was probably feeling the same way he did and kept from saying anything in front of the children but she didn’t approve of course. After a period of tense silence that was only broken by a few remarks about the weather from Hannah, Alice told the children to go inside and prepare the fruit salad for afters. The House Elf Sandy had been supposed to do this but she often let the children help in the kitchen, so they weren’t too surprised. “Strawberries and cherries are in the cellar,” she told them.  
When the children were out of earshot, she turned to Hannah. “What are you thinking? You can’t send Deborah there on her own.”  
“And why not?” Hannah asked. “You don’t really think they’re going to harm her, do you?”  
“It’s quite likely, isn’t it?”  
“No, it’s not,” Hannah said. “The war’s been over for eight years. Neville’s well-respected here. What do you think they’d gain from doing something to his daughter? Being friends with the Lestrange daughter is a great opportunity for Debbie. Do you really want to ruin this for her because you fought on different sides twenty years ago?”  
“You’ve really internalised the party line now, haven’t you?” Alice asked. “You know very well that we weren’t only “fighting on different sides”, don’t you?”  
“Yes, of course I know. But these times are over. The Dark Lord and his people have accepted us in their society even though we’ve fought against them. We have the same rights everyone else has, no matter which part we played in the war. The Old Ministry wouldn’t have done the same and you know that as well as I do. It would have been a lifetime of suffering in Azkaban for everyone who had supported the Dark Lord.”

This was true in a way, Neville thought even though it sounded so wrong. They all had expected Voldemort’s world to continue being the way it had been during the last months of the war or likely even worse. They had believed that they were going to be imprisoned, killed or enslaved. The truth was different, at least for those of magical blood.   
Neville knew that Muggle-borns were no longer allowed to learn magic but had their magical powers removed as soon as they manifested. Official sources said that this was better for them because they could remain in the world they had grown up in. Neville knew that this wasn’t true for people like Hermione but he was sure that she could have done well in the Muggle-world if she had remained there from the start. She probably would have suffered far less there.

“So you’re supporting them now?” Alice asked and for a moment, Neville wasn’t sure if she was talking to him or Hannah.   
“Yes, I probably do,” Hannah said. “I can understand that you’re feeling the way you do and I would never tell anyone about the things you’re saying here but I can’t deny that I’m quite happy with things the way they are and I don’t think I should be ashamed for that.”  
“I see,” Alice said.   
Hannah looked at him. “What do you think, Neville? Is it alright for you if Debbie visits the Lestranges?”  
Neville sighed deeply. He hated to be torn between his wife and mother like that. He agreed with both of them in a way. Neville knew that the new magical society wasn’t as flawless as Hannah seemed to think and he understood that his mother couldn’t forgive the Lestranges for what they had put her through. He didn’t want to see the newly-found peace threatened either though and he was satisfied with his situation and didn’t feel that he suffered any undue restrictions as far as his work as a Healer was concerned. He was also grateful to Lestrange for teaching him; this was something he couldn’t deny either.   
It was quite possible if not likely that Rodolphus would simply show Deborah a few interesting things while Bellatrix would let them play Quidditch or something like that. He couldn’t be sure though. He’d never be able to trust them.  
“I would never try to persuade her to go,” Hannah said. “But she wants it. Should we really forbid her to visit her friend? Without a good explanation?”  
“I don’t think we can forbid it now after you’ve already allowed it,” Neville said reluctantly. “At least not without telling her why and I don’t really want to do this.”

“We’ll have to tell them at some point,” Alice said. “Why not now?”  
“No, I won’t have this,” Hannah said resolutely. “Deborah’s troubled enough as it is. She doesn’t need to be burdened with things that happened long before she was born. What good would it do?”  
“She’d know what kind of people they are,” Alice said.  
“Do you want her to fight the Dark Lord as well? Maybe start a new war with others and bring all the suffering and dying back? Is this really what you want?” Hannah asked.  
Alice didn’t answer. Neville knew that she wasn’t sure what she really wanted either. He didn’t believe his mother had any plans for the future at all. She remembered what the Lestranges had done to her and was afraid of letting Deborah stay with them even though they all knew that there probably wouldn’t be anything bad happening.   
“You are Debbie’s parents and you decide what’s happening,” Alice said in a husky voice. “I can’t do anything but hope that it will go well.”  
Hannah took her hand into her own and said: “You have nothing to fear, believe me. It is really over. I don’t want to make you sad, I really don’t but I’m very sure it’s better this way. For Debbie because she can stay with her friend and doesn’t have to carry around things she can’t understand and for the rest of us because we aren’t raising suspicion this way. We can’t forbid our children contact with the Death Eaters without marking ourselves as enemies and I really don’t think we should do that.”  
Neville wasn’t sure if his mother could understand where Hannah was coming from but at least she made an effort to explain herself to her. He hated how Deborah’s harmless question had caused this unpleasant argument. It shouldn’t be that way. He really didn’t want to drag the children into this, Neville agreed with Hannah on this. They didn’t need to know about these things. He wasn’t going to tell them about the Carrows or anything either.  
When Franics and Deborah returned with the fruit salad the argument had ended but the relaxed atmosphere was gone.


	14. Milan Babic

“You’re both speaking English?” Frank asked slightly surprised. He had always believed that their language wasn’t so commonly known in this part of the world.   
“It is very advisable for an Auror to speak the language of the country with the highest number of dark wizards in Europe,” Afrim Ristani said.  
“Very true,” Nada Zoric added. “And lucky for you. And for Andela, she won’t have to translate all the time.”  
Frank couldn’t deny that it was convenient but he felt more shame than relief. Did Voldemort and the Death Eaters even know how much disgrace they had brought upon their country? In the days before Voldemort, Great Britain had not been one of the countries with the highest number of dark wizards in Europe, quite the opposite. They had been known for their strong stance against the Dark Arts which had never been tolerated, something many other European countries couldn’t claim. As a boy and young man, Frank hadn’t been able to imagine that this might change soon. He had been wrong. One single madman had been enough to destroy so much, including the reputation of his home country.

“So you are one of the few Englishmen who still resist You-Know-Who’s regime?” the Albanian Auror wanted to now.   
Frank looked towards the door.   
“I assure you that our conversation is private,” his Serbian colleague added. “We know how precarious your situation is, Mr Longbottom.”  
“Well, yes, I assume so,” Frank said. “I’ve been out of touch with the British wizarding society for the last years.”  
“You’ve been living abroad?” Ristani asked.  
“I’ve been living among Muggles,” Frank said. “Under a false name.”  
“That’s probably how you got to Serbia unnoticed, am I correct?” Nada Zoric wanted to know.  
“You should be more careful,” Ristani told her. “If he can get into the country this way, others will be able to do the same. We’ve been forced to tighten security strongly after a few unpleasant incidents involving British dark wizards who seem to labour under the delusion that our country is a playground for their dark activities.”  
“We’re trying our best to close this security leak,” Zoric said. “But that’s not what we’re here for. You’ve been living like a Muggle for the last years and have decided to take action now, do I understand this correctly?”  
“You do.”  
“You used to work as an Auror but you’ve never had a part in the new British regime’s law-enforcement?” Ristani wanted to know.  
“That’s correct,” Frank said, feeling slightly annoyed by their questioning. They were acting as if he was a potential Death Eater himself. 

“Very well,” Ristani said. “Andela Jovanovic told me that you suspect some dark activity by the British Dark Lord in Albania. Is that correct?”  
“It’s only a very vague suspicion,” Frank said. “You-Know-Who was hiding in Albania when he was severely weakened after receiving a backfiring killing curse. It’s quite possible that he’s used this hiding place again to keep a dark artefact safe.”  
“Possible but not very likely,” Ristani said. “His hiding place is known to others by now and we’re doing our best to detect any dark activity in our country. The times where wrongdoers could be more hopeful to get away with this kind of thing in Albania than elsewhere are over.”  
“That doesn’t mean it’s impossible though,” Zoric said.   
“Do you think you could send someone to check the place in question or let us do so?” Frank asked.   
“I could but I need to know more about the nature of the artefact to do so,” Ristani said.  
Frank suppressed a sigh. “The number of people who know about this should be as small as possible but I think I have to trust your judgement.”   
Frank didn’t really feel like doing so but he probably wouldn’t achieve anything if he did not. The way this Albanian Auror spoke he’d probably have him arrested if he tried to enter his country without an authorisation.   
“The object I’m looking for is a Horcrux.”  
Madam Jovanovic flinched as she heard the term, Auror Zoric’s eyes narrowed while Ristani frowned. “I’ll make sure that the matter is being investigated immediately,” the Albanian Auror said. “If it should prove true, the British will have to answer at the next meeting of the International Confederation of Wizards. We will not tolerate the introduction of this kind of devilry into our country.”  
Frank felt slightly awkward at the cold anger in the Auror’s voice. He had gotten so used to the idea of Voldemort’s Horcruxes that it didn’t shock him anymore. 

“If the object is indeed to be found, it will be destroyed immediately,” Ristani said.   
“Are you in possession of the necessary means?” Zoric asked. “We could provide you with a basilisk tooth.”  
Frank wasn’t quite sure what they were on about now. He knew that Horcruxes existed and that they contained a split piece of a dark wizard’s soul but that was about it. It looked as if he really needed help in this.  
“That would be helpful indeed, thank you,” Ristani said. “Fiendfyre’s always an option of course but better avoid it if you can.”   
When this was settled Ristani asked Frank about the exact location where he suspected the Horcrux. Frank told him as much as he could.  
“You excuse us, Madam Zoric, Mr Longbottom, Madam Jovanovic,” he said as soon as Frank had finished.”I wish to get this over with as quickly as possible. I’ll return as soon as possible and share the results with you of course.”  
Frank had hoped that Ristani would take him along when he was looking for the Horcrux but the Albanian Auror had no reason to do so of course.   
“Remember what we’ve discussed,” Madam Jovanovic said, probably referring to Frank’s weakened magic. He had started to practice in the wandmaker’s guestroom where he was staying now and there was some improvement but it wasn’t anywhere near the level it had been before.   
He could do nothing but wait and hope that the Albanian Aurors would really be up to the task and free of traitors. 

The next day, Auror Zoric visited the wand shop. Frank expected the worst right away. “Has something happened in Albania?”   
“I haven’t heard of Ristani so far,” Zoric told him. “No, it’s a different subject matter. As much as I hate to admit it, there’s a connection between You-Know-Who and this country as well.”  
Frank felt curious and worried at the same time. “What do you mean?”  
“You know about the group called the Red Lethifold?”  
“Yes, of course,” Frank said. “They killed one of our colleagues.”  
“You’ll be pleased to hear that we’ve apprehended them. Anyway, one of them kept bragging about how his father had taught the British Dark Lord how to use Legilimency for torture and how to possess people as well if I remember correctly. The father’s dead, the man only knows it from narrations but it’s still a trail we could follow. And the father’s taught him English because he had great hopes in your Dark Lord. I could arrange a meeting with this prisoner, Milan Babic if you’re interested.”  
Frank was glad about anything he could do. He surely wouldn’t refuse this offer.  
“This could prove interesting,” he said. “How long has this man been in prison? Is he in a state to testify?”  
“I’m not sure what the one has to do with the other but he’s been in prison for about fifteen years now and he should be able to testify well enough.” Understanding dawned on her face. “Ah, I see what you mean. We’re not using Dementors to guard our prisoners; we’ve never felt secure with them. They’re given a potion that makes them unable to use any magic instead. This has no effects beyond that.”  
“Alright,” Frank said. Dumbledore had always demanded that the Ministry should look into alternatives to the Dementors for guarding Azkaban but the Ministry hadn’t been interested in changing a proven system. If they ever managed to defeat Voldemort, they had to look into various alternatives. Only after thinking that did Frank realise that there was no “they” so far. No one else seemed to oppose Voldemort at least not openly.

A few moments later, apparition worked well again for Frank, the two Aurors stood in front of the Serbian magical prison, a high tower in the middle of an almost desert-like countryside which was hidden from the Muggles by various spells. The tower was surrounded by high walls as well as various bane circles and protective spells.   
The Auror Nada Zoric was able to get in without trouble and could allow Frank to pass as well. A witch and a wizard in uniform robes were sitting at the entrance, Zoric told them who she was, had her wand checked and introduced Frank who had to subject his new wand to this procedure as well. His robes too were checked with various spells.   
“Babic’s waiting for you in the visitor’s room,” the guard informed them.  
The visitor’s room seemed to be at the top of the tower, they had to climb many stairs. Such a thing didn’t exist in Azkaban; visits hadn’t been encouraged there. Frank saw a few prisoners being led through the corridors by guards. They were wearing grey robes similar to those worn by the inmates of Azkaban but instead of long, unkempt hair and beards, they had very short hair. This was true for wizards as well as witches.   
Frank tried to look at the wards as thoroughly as possible. No matter how far away victory might be gathering ideas couldn’t hurt.

Milan Babic was a slightly porky man with small eyes and brown hair. The two male guards who had brought him in left the visitors’ room after exchanging a few words in Serbian with Auror Zoric.   
“Babic, this is an English Auror who’s interested in your father’s work with the Dark Lord who’s given his country so much trouble.”  
Babic grinned. “Ah yes, I remember you. You’re the reason I’m here or so I’ve heard. Didn’t have a much better time than I did now, did you?”  
“That’s neither here nor there,” Frank said. Zoric had already told him that Babic didn’t know anything about the second wizarding war and Voldemort’s rise to power. He had been captured before and this kind of information was kept away from the prisoners. Frank hoped it was true.  
“You want to know about Tom Riddle or “Lord Voldemort” as he liked to call himself?” Babic asked.  
Frank was surprised to hear the prisoner use the name so nonchalantly. Avoiding Voldemort’s name had obviously become common practice all over Europe and Frank had never heard anyone other than Dumbledore and some of his elderly relatives use Voldemort’s former name at all. 

“Is there anything you can tell me?”  
“Of course. My father liked to talk about him. Thought he was a promising talent. Rubbish if you ask me. Sounded more like a stuck-up git with a heightened sense of self-importance. I don’t understand that someone like him ever made the title “Dark Lord” but in a country that normally avoids the Dark Arts completely, well, it’s probably not too surprising.”  
“What has your father taught him?” Frank asked, carefully taking notes.  
“He’s been highly interested in mind magic and manipulation,” Babic said. “The darker parts of Legilimency if you know what I mean. Extracting information from someone’s mind by force, this kind of thing. Could be interesting for you as an Auror too.”  
So he really didn’t seem to know that Frank wasn’t an official Auror anymore. Good.  
“The Cruciatus curse has its uses no doubt but it’s not really the most useful tool of interrogation. The cursed is in so much pain that he doesn’t really understand the question anymore, especially if matters are getting more complex, if you want to hear a complete story or something. You always have to stop the curse but then the cursed thinks it’s not been so bad and that he can endure some more. Doesn’t really lead anywhere. Wizards should be able to develop something more subtle and efficient than sheer pain and it is possible. Legilimency can be used without the other person’s consent. It is relatively painful but not as painful as the Cruciatus curse. The cursed doesn’t need to speak at all and he cannot lie. The information is taken directly out of his mind. Very useful indeed. Riddle thought so too.”

Following the man’s ramblings was a daunting task. His pronunciation wasn’t very good and it took Frank an effort not to show any signs of discomfort at the subject matter.   
“Did Riddle learn this skill?” he asked.  
“Yes, yes he did. He never figured out how to break a really strong Occlumentic shield though. Father never understood why he didn’t even though he was so talented. I think I do though. He simply lacked the subtlety. He always tried to apply more force but that simply encourages the cursed to defend himself more strongly. Couldn’t work that well. Or it could have been father’s talent of course. Riddle never managed to get past his shields if he didn’t let him but it would work on weaker people of course.”  
“He is able to apply this technique though?” Frank asked.  
“If the cursed isn’t an extremely strong Occlumens, yes,” Babic said. “He definitely enjoyed it. Loved having this kind of power over someone else, being directly inside his mind and torturing him with his own memories. Father’s almost been a bit disturbed when talking about him and that says something. That’s why Riddle’s been so interested in possessing people too.”  
“Your father was able to teach him this kind of thing as well?” Frank asked. He had his own personal experience with Voldemort’s skills in this era. It had almost cost his life back then in the Albanian forest.  
“Yes, father knew all about that even though he rarely used it. Isn’t really useful and makes you too vulnerable. That’s why he’s never taught it to me. Well, wouldn’t do me much good in here, would it?”

“Where did your father teach Tom Riddle?” Auror Zoric asked.  
“Most of it happened at our headquarters in Belgrade,” Babic answered. “But not the possession stuff. They went out into the countryside for this. There was this well in a cave near Bajina Bašta, he always used the animals living there and some of the Muggles too. Father didn’t let him practice on himself you see, too dangerous.”  
Nada Zoric gave Frank a meaningful look. He had no trouble catching the hint. It was possible that this cave was the place Voldemort had chosen for his Horcrux. It had probably not occurred to him that his former mentor’s son would talk so freely about their time together. Babic didn’t seem to be aware of the amount of power Voldemort had gathered at all.   
“Thank you. I think that’s all we needed to know,” he said.  
“Are you sure? We’ve developed a few modified versions of the Cruciatus curse as well. They might be more useful as well because the pain they’re causing isn’t quite as intense while the weakening affect on the body-“  
Auror Zoric gave an audible cough.  
“I think I’m sufficiently knowledgeable in this subject matter, thank you,” Frank said as calmly as he could muster.   
The “stuck-up-git” would certainly be highly interested in the services of this man, at least if he managed to show him the “respect” required of the Death Eaters. Frank was sure that Milan Babic and Rodolphus Lestrange would get along very well. They would surely be able to lead long conversations about all kinds of improved and efficient torture methods. Maybe the Babic family was similar to the Lestrange family as far as their special interest in this kind of thing was concerned.   
He could imagine what Dawlish and the others must have endured now. At least, the responsible people in this case sat in prison robbed of their magical abilities rather than ruling a country.

Babic was led away by his guards again and the two Aurors left the prison.  
“Quite talkative this one,” Frank said.  
“Well, he doesn’t get many opportunities to talk about his former life,” Nada Zoric explained. “It’s not encouraged here. The prisoners aren’t allowed to speak when they’re together; if they do they get solitary confinement. He’s probably extremely bored with nothing to do but kitchen work without magic.”  
“He’d surely be glad if You-Know-How gave him more “interesting” assignments,” Frank said.  
“I’m certain You-Know-Who’d take all the Red Lethifold members if he got the chance,” Zoric told him after apparating back to Madam Jovanovic’s house. “There are a few professional killers with very unique methods among them too. They prefer to keep this quiet though. Babic would probably love to have someone to teach.”  
Frank tried not to imagine this man teaching Dark Arts-class at Hogwarts. He wouldn’t put it past Voldemort though.   
“We’re doing our best to keep the prison secure; you’ve seen the number of people we’ve stationed here. Almost as many guards as prisoners.”  
“I do hope you’ll be successful,” Frank said.  
“So do I. It’s strange that he’s mentioned this cave in Bajina Bašta though. There’ve already been reports about suspicious phenomena occurring there. We have to check that. As soon as Afrim Ristani’s back. I’d prefer to do it with his help.”  
Frank agreed. This sounded promising indeed. Maybe they’d be able to find and destroy the Horcrux soon.   
One step towards the Dark Lord’s defeat.


	15. Helga's Cup

Afrim Ristani returned unharmed but he and his team hadn’t found a Horcrux or any other dark object in the forest where Voldemort had been hiding in the past. They did manage to capture a British Death Eater called Walden Macnair however. He had obviously attempted to recruit wizards as well as magical beings for Voldemort’s army in Albania. Frank was glad to hear about this success but he would have preferred it if the Horcrux had been destroyed. He hoped that Babic’s information would lead them to the right place. The hints they had gathered so far did sound promising.  
“I think it would be best if the three of us investigated,” Auror Zoric suggested. “Mr Longbottom doesn’t want to involve more people and the two of us are familiar with the problem as well as the nature of the object in question.”  
“Sounds reasonable to me,” Ristani said. “You need to ask permission from your superiors though. I don’t want to cause a diplomatic crisis with unauthorised actions in another country. The same goes for Longbottom himself by the way. Are you even authorized to do any Auror work at the moment? You’re not in the service of the current British government, are you?”  
“No, I’m not,” Frank said quickly. “I’m still in the service of the rightful British government though. I do not recognize the usurpers.”  
“I’m going to check with the Head of Magical Law Enforcement and even the Minister if necessary,” Zoric said. “I’ll simply mention a dangerous dark artefact without going into specifics.”

Frank wasn’t glad about this delay. Every additional day gave the Death Eaters time to find out about their plans and threatened Frank as well as his allies. He was especially worried about Madam Jovanovic who wasn’t an Auror and not really trained to deal with dangerous situations.  
The Serbian Ministry of Magic didn’t seem to work any quicker than the British one had done back in the old days but the waiting time passed without any incidents. Frank hoped that they hadn’t attracted any Death Eaters or that there might really be none in this country. When Zoric finally came back with the Ministry’s okay, they started as soon as possible.  
“We need to protect ourselves during the mission,” Zoric said. “Wizards who create Horcruxes shy away from nothing. I recommend the use of masks and we should use our first names if you don’t mind, Mr Longbottom. This way, they won’t be able to link us to our families if they overhear us.”  
Frank didn’t mind, Nada Zoric’s first name was easier to pronounce than her last name. He didn’t really like the idea of wearing a mask like a Death Eater but he understood why they believed it was safer.  
“I’ve brought the Basilisk tooth back,” Afrim said. “If you have more of those, we should take one for everyone though. It’s safer. Curse-proof gloves for everyone are necessary too.”  
“Not just gloves,” Nada said. “I’ll bring three sets of curse-prove robes and masks. These might come in handy. We also have a variety of antidotes and anti-curse potions.”  
Frank was impressed by the equipment they had available here. The British Aurors had never had curse-proof robes and masks. Moody had suggested getting some but Crouch had considered it a waste of Ministry money. Situations where these became necessary had been rare in their work, curse-prove robes didn’t hold out against enemy magic in a fight very well. The situation was probably different here with all those dark magic underground organisations that tended to curse objects.   
“We have to inform the colleagues in Bajina Bašta and install different means of emergency communication.”

As soon as everything had been prepared, the small group made their way to Bajina Bašta via apparition. The town and the surrounding mountainous countryside were really pretty with lots of green, many varieties of fruits and herbs were grown here. If the situation hadn’t been so dire, Frank might have considered staying here for recreation but this wasn’t the time to think about that. There was a job to be done.   
They met the four Serbian Aurors stationed here right after their arrival but none of them spoke much English. The conversation was held in Serbian which meant that Frank couldn’t add much.  
“We could really be onto something,” Nada told him afterwards. “There definitely seems to be dark magic activity here. A stream that’s being avoided by animals for no visible reason. It comes out of a cave but it seems to be completely closed off and they haven’t been able to get in so far. According to the local Muggles, the problem has been around for about six years but the Aurors only learned about it recently.”  
She informed him about a spell that would allow them to contact the other Aurors in case of trouble. They were also given small metal beetles that’d scuttle off to find other Aurors when released. There was no need of a wand for this alarm. Nada showed Frank how they worked and afterwards, the three apparated to the place the Serbian Aurors had indicated. They cast Notice-me-not charms before putting on the curse-proof robes and gloves. All three of them could sense that there was dark magic in the water. Aurors were taught this kind of skill everywhere or so it seemed.

The three Aurors quickly reached the entrance to the cave and it was indeed sealed. Only a small slit for the water was left but not human could hope to pass through there. Afrim put the glove on his right hand off and touched the rock directly. Skin contact made it easier to sense magic even though it could prove dangerous of course. Frank and Nada watched anxiously. It was better if only one person got exposed to the danger, this would allow the others to help.  
“The entrance has been sealed by dark magic,” Afrim stated. “That much is obvious. The cave used to be open.”  
“Do you think the spell can be broken?” Nada asked.  
“It requires a sacrifice to let someone pass,” Afrim explained. “Blood. Not the most refined method but rather popular among dark wizards nonetheless.”  
“Do you think the curse can be broken?” Nada wanted to know.  
“It might be breakable but I think this would weaken us more than leaving a few drops of blood. I’ll do it.”  
“You don’t have to,” Frank said. “I can do this.”  
“That wouldn’t be reasonable,” Afrim said curtly. “Your family is well-known in your country; You-Know-Who might be able to recognise your blood. He doesn’t know us. This option is safer. I won’t discuss every step with you. This is about efficiency and not about heroics. Do you understand?”  
“Yes, I do,” Frank said, wondering which house Afrim would have been in if he had attended Hogwarts.

Afrim drew his wand over his finger and blood started to drip onto the rock. He had been right. The stone moved aside and allowed them to enter the cave now. The pathway wasn’t very high but they could walk through if they bowed their heads.   
Afrim healed his wound. “Let’s go and see.”  
The three Aurors walked into the cave, Afrim continued looking for traces of magic with his hand while Nada did the same with her wand. Frank lit his new wand with the Lumos-spell and looked for people or creatures that might attack them. The others seemed to be better in sensing dark magic. Frank only noticed if something was there but Afrim was obviously able to recognise the curse and its strength. They hadn’t taught them that in British Auror training, it had been focused on combat and resistance in case of capture. The officials had obviously believed that finding dark object wasn’t the most pressing matter during a war. Getting the new Aurors ready to fight as quickly as possible had been the top priority.   
The tunnel was devoid of either attackers or magic. That was true for the water as well. Inside the cave, it seemed to be pure.  
Frank wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be glad about that or not. He didn’t like the idea that the cave had only been used to test the blood magic by some dark wizard and nothing beyond. He needed to find the Horcrux and this was the only clue he had. The pathway began to spiral upwards into the mountain slowly

“Wait,” Afrim suddenly called.  
The others obeyed immediately.   
“There’s a powerful curse on the passageway in front of us. I can feel its influence from here. I don’t think we should walk into this unprepared.”  
“Surely not,” Nada said and all three of them started to cast diagnostic spells to reveal the nature of the curse. It wasn’t any spell Frank had come across before and neither had the other two or so it seemed.   
Nada dared to make a guess however: “I think it’s supposed to mess with our sense of balance. There will probably be more difficult passages and the spell will make intruders fall down. If anyone ever comes to investigate, it will look like a simple accident.”  
A quick spell from Afrim showed that this was indeed the case. The passageway became very steep and would require them to climb.  
“Do you think your curse-prove cloaks will shield us from that?” Frank asked.  
“It’s hard to tell,” Nada said. “If the spell directly interferes with our magic they won’t, otherwise our chances aren’t too bad.”  
Frank suppressed a shudder at the idea of magic that directly interfered with his own. The memory of how Lestrange had destroyed his resistance against the Cruciatus curse was still vivid in his mind. He didn’t want to imagine experiencing anything like that ever again.

“Everything alright?” Afrim asked.  
Had his discomfort been so obvious? Frank was ashamed. He wasn’t supposed to act like a coward. “I’m fine.”  
“You don’t have to come down there with us,” Afrim said. “If you think you’ll have trouble, better wait here and get help for us if we don’t return.”  
“This problem has been created by my enemies and I will not let you face it alone,” Frank said. Standing aside like a coward was out of the question.  
“As you wish,” Afrim said. “You know better than I do what you’re capable of at the moment. I hope.”  
“If we cast a protective charm together, it might be enough,” Nada said. “You-Know-Who probably didn’t expect experienced Aurors to look for his things. The resistance in Britain wasn’t mainly orchestrated by the Ministry but rather done by amateurs, am I correct?”  
“Yes, that’s true. There weren’t many Aurors among us,” Frank said.   
Maybe things would have been better if there had been, he thought. As brave and enthusiastic as people like the Marauders had been, more members with a greater interest in strategy and more profound training might have improved their situation. The distrust between Dumbledore and the Ministry had been too great for that though.

The three of them cast a common protective spell. Their magic blended well and Frank hoped that it might really work in combination with the protective cloaks.  
When everything was done, they walked on. The light on Frank’s wand flickered and died as soon as they reached the cursed part of the pathway. So the curse had more effects than they had appreciated. Frank didn’t like the thought but there was nothing he could do about it. They had to walk in the dark, carefully feeling were they were going. Frank started to feel dizzy.  
“How are you?” he wanted to know from the others.  
“Everything fine so far,” Nada said and Afrim confirmed this. Frank wondered if he was the only one who was affected, if they didn’t tell him the truth or if the dizziness was only there in his imagination. It seemed to grow worse however.  
“We’ll have to climb now,” Afrim announced.   
“Apparating up isn’t an option?” Frank asked.  
“No, he made sure of that,” the Albanian Auror explained. “We can fasten ourselves with magic and don’t panic if you do fall. Our magic will protect us in this kind of situation even without a spell. If we believe in it.”  
“Alright,” Nada said.  
Frank tried to fight the uncertainty he was feeling off. Afrim was right. A wizard could safe himself if he fell down and the dizziness was only there in his head. They were protected against the curse.   
“Look out for the others,” Nada added before they took out their ropes and fastened them to the rocks with both magic and knots. 

It was much more difficult than Frank had thought. The dizziness grew worse and worse, the world seemed to turn around Frank and his hands grew sweaty and started to shake.  
“We should have brought brooms,” he heard Afrim say from far away. “How do you do.”  
“Everything alright,” Nada said.  
Frank wasn’t able to answer. Keeping himself from falling off while he mechanically set one foot in front of the other was all he could do. He didn’t know how long this was supposed to last and didn’t know if he had any chance of getting it done. The gentle falling of the water seemed to be unbearably loud. He couldn’t do it anymore, he couldn’t walk on. Holding onto the rock and rope, hoping he wouldn’t fall down was all he was capable of.   
“Come on Frank, it’s nearly done,” Nada called but he wasn’t able. He couldn’t move anymore. He was going to fall. That was the end. Cold sweat was running down his body.  
“Move on, we can’t waste any time,” Afrim called.  
“I can’t, I’ll fall,” Frank muttered, everything around him turning more and more quickly.  
“Sorry, I have no choice,” he heard Nada’s voice. “Imperio!”  
The panic and dizziness were gently wiped away, replaced by a calm and relaxed feeling. “Climb on,” he heard a voice in his head say and of course he’d obey, it was the only sensible thing to do. Frank’s feet and hands found the right places to step on and hold onto. He didn’t feel the tiredness anymore. 

When it was over, Frank felt as if someone had doused him with cold water. He said there sweating, his entire body was shaking. Afrim’s wand was alight now and he collected the robes.   
“I’m sorry for doing this but you were close to falling,” Nada said. “My spells to hold you didn’t work. There was nothing else I could do.”  
“It’s alright,” Frank heard himself say. Using the Imperius curse in life-threatening situations hadn’t been banned for British Aurors in the past either even though Frank had never ended up in such as situation until now. He didn’t blame Nada but he felt deeply embarrassed about his own behaviour.  
“I’m really sorry. I’ve endangered you all. I don’t know how that could happen.”  
“It is strange,” Afrim said. “The curse seemed to affect you full force but I didn’t feel it at all.”  
“Neither did I,” Nada said. “We were lucky. No one could have done anything if we had all been affected like this.”  
Frank knew that this was true and he wouldn’t have blamed anyone else for needing help in such a situation but he had always preferred to give help rather than need it. Afrim’s doubting look didn’t make it any better.  
“It’s not really surprising. Extensive exposure to the Cruciatus curse damages the magical resistance,” he said. “You probably have to build up an Auror’s resistance again from the scratch. We should have thought this through earlier but it’s too late now. We can’t send you back on your own. Are you able to go on?”  
“Yes,” Frank said. He felt normal again even though his sweaty clothes made him feel cold in the chilly cave. That wasn’t a serious problem though. After a few steps he remembered, that a simply drying charm would take care of it. 

The rest of passageway was curse-free and they managed to get along relatively quickly. After about 500 feet, the cave opened into a large cavern. All three Aurors were using the Lumos-spell now and gazed upon many stalactites and stalagmites as well as an underground lake which had limestone structures swim around it that looked almost like water lily leaves.   
Normally, Frank would have considered the sight beautifully but this wasn’t the moment to admire it. Nada and Afrim were sensing some dark magic again even though neither seemed to be able to place it. Frank didn’t notice it all but he believed in his colleagues’ fine senses.  
“I don’t really like this,” Afrim said. “We should-“  
Before he was able to say what they should do, the dripstones started to attack them like spears thrown by invisible warriors. The Aurors quickly cast shield charms. At first, those seemed to be enough to keep the onslaught at bay but the attack became more and more violent.  
Frank soon realised that the shield charms wouldn’t hold out. They needed to think of something else. He attempted different spells to destroy solid object but for every stone he hit, two more came flying into his direction.   
“Let’s try a Restitution spell,” Nada shouted.  
The Restitution spell was used to return charmed objects or places to their natural state. Frank doubted that it would work here but it was worth a try.  
The three Aurors cast the spell at the same time. The cave started to glow golden and the stone attack really seemed to slow down. The broken stones put themselves together again. For a moment, Frank feared they’d start attacking again but that wasn’t what was happening. Instead, the stones moved back to their original place in the cave.  
The attack stopped and the cave had returned to its beautiful state.

“Good thinking,” Afrim said.   
“Thanks. You-Know-Who obviously didn’t take this into account. Dark Wizards don’t expect someone to think of rebuilding a beautiful site while being under attack,” Nada explained.   
Frank didn’t doubt that she was right. It hadn’t occurred to him either if he was supposed to be honest. Nada however knew and loved this land; it wasn’t too surprising that she was the one who had thought of it.  
Another obstacle was mastered but Frank didn’t doubt that there’d be more defences. The cave turned narrower again. Frank tried to chase away the memories of the last narrow pathway. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself again. This one seemed to be free of dark magic which everyone noted with relief. The only unpleasant part was the fact that the pathway was turning smaller and smaller. At first they only needed to bow their heads but after a while, the ceiling became so low they had to crawl on all fours. Frank didn’t like being in this position at all. It would be extremely difficult to react if someone suddenly attacked them.  
They were lucky however. No dangers were lurking in the narrow passage way and it soon became wider again. 

Something golden glittered in the light of their wands but this time, it didn’t come from a charm.   
“The dream of any cave explorer,” Afrim said. “If only it doesn’t turn into a nightmare.”  
The cavern in front of them was filled with golden objects of various kinds. There were goblets, plates, cups and chandeliers, all seemingly made of pure gold.  
“The things are all full of dark magic,” Afrim said.   
“And charmed in a way that makes it unable to recognise the Horcrux by magic,” Nada added. “Do you know what we’re looking for?”  
“I’m sorry but I don’t know. Maybe something with a snake on it? It’s the symbol of the school founder he thinks he’s the Heir of.” Frank hated that he wasn’t able to offer more help. He had dragged two foreign colleagues onto this without really knowing what to do. The only good thing was that they had been lucky. So far.  
“We probably can’t do anything but pick the things up. Maybe we find a hint on one. Let’s just hope that the curse-prove gloves will be good enough.”  
Frank took one of the golden plates into his gloved hand. He felt an odd tingling sensation in his fingers but whatever curse was on there couldn’t work through the glove. At least not yet. Frank knew that the glove wouldn’t hold out against this for too long.  
The plate showed no sign of being linked to Voldemort in any way and neither did the two goblets and the chandelier Frank checked next. The next object Frank picked up, another plate sent a wave of pain through him.   
“Give it to me,” Afrim said. “Maybe that’s the one.”  
When the Albanian Auror took the object into his hand, there was no such affect though. “I can’t sense a difference. Maybe your gloves start failing. I don’t think you should touch anymore. Try revealing charms.”

Frank did so but it had no effect. Why had he been the one most affected by Voldemort’s magic once again? Did the problems with his gloves have to do with the state of his magic as well? The others must think he was a complete failure.   
Afrim was the second one who had to stop touching the objects. His revealing charms weren’t any more successful than Frank’s.   
Nada winced slightly when she picked the next object up. “Wait, this has something on it. An engraving. It’s not a snake though. And nothing else which has to do with dark magic either. It’s a badger.”  
“A badger?” Frank asked. Had Voldemort defiled an object that used to belong to Helga Hufflepuff of all people? He wouldn’t put it past him. Helga Hufflepuff had had a magical cup, at least that was what the legends about the founders said.  
“That must be it. It’s the symbol of another Hogwarts founder.”  
“Good,” Nada said. “I wouldn’t have been able to keep this up anymore either. Will you destroy it? It should be easy with the basilisk tooth.”  
She put the cup on the floor close to the passageway and the two Aurors stood back. Frank took the tooth out of his robes and walked towards it.

“Frank Longbottom,” a high, cold voice that. “I am surprised to see that you’re alive. Very surprised.”  
Frank suppressed a shudder. He knew this voice better than he would have liked. The two other Aurors raised their wands but there was no one there. The voice seemed to come from the Horcrux. At least they knew for sure that they had found the real thing now, Frank thought. This voice clearly belonged to Lord Voldemort.   
“I thought you couldn’t live with the shame,” Voldemort’s voice continued. “Don’t you mind at all? Does it not bother you that you only recovered again because the man who made you ill in the first place gave you the cure?”  
“Stab it,” Afrim said.  
Frank knew he wasn’t supposed to listen but he couldn’t help it. Surely Voldemort didn’t mean, why would Lestrange do something so illogical? Why would he give him a cure?  
“Oh, you think you recovered because of your own strength? No Frank, you did not. It was my loyal servant’s potion. His magic brought you down; his magic helped you up again. You fled like a coward, so keen on saving your own skin. You left your wife behind.”  
“Alice is dead.”  
“Alice is not dead, Frank. You’ve left her behind in our care. You’ve fled and left her. She’s ours now, to do with as we please.”  
“Do it now or we’ll do it,” Nada called. 

Frank stared at the Horcrux. He knew that she was right but at the same time, he wanted to know what he had to say. Alice alive? Could it be true?  
“You know how close I am to dear Bella,” the Horcrux-Voldemort continued. “She belongs to me but Rodolphus deserves a price for his loyalty. I’ve promised him Alice as experimental game or whatever else he has in mind. It’s the reward a Lestrange wants after all, ever since Thorolf and Rigantona.”  
These last words made Frank realise that this wasn’t the truth and it wasn’t truly Voldemort. He wouldn’t talk about the family histories like that, Frank wasn’t even sure if he knew about them. This was some cleverly developed spell upon the Horcrux. He had to destroy it if he didn’t want the others to do it and Frank did not want that. He didn’t want to fail again.   
He took a deep breath and stabbed the cup with the tooth. It went through the solid gold as if it were raw meat. There was a piercing scream and something which looked almost like blood streamed out of the destroyed cup.  
“That was a clever curse,” Nada said. “Especially against someone with troubles in his past and You-Know-Who could safely assume that his enemy would have that. But it doesn’t matter. It’s done and that vile thing has been removed from my land. Let’s-“

A deafening noise drowned her last words. It sounded as if the entire cave was tumbling down. Frank stepped away from the passageway and cast a shield charm to keep falling rocks from hitting him. The others did the same. It became clear pretty quickly that the cavern itself wasn’t affected though.   
Their way to the outside was blocked however.   
Afrim said something rough in his own language. “Another curse,” he added. “Seems as if he wants to trap us here.”  
Nada was already looking for another entrance but there was none.   
“He might come and check what’s happened,” Frank said. He hoped this wasn’t the case but he had to warn the others of the worst. Frank really didn’t want his colleagues to be murdered by Voldemort because he had needed their help finding the Horcrux.  
“Is that a real possibility?” Nada asked.  
“I wouldn’t say it if it were not,” Frank told her.  
“Alright,” Afrim said. “Clearing the cave would take too long under these circumstances. We need to try and break the Anti-Apparition wards. Our combined magic might be enough.”  
“It’s the best option,” Nada said.   
Frank didn’t disagree.  
“On the count of three,” Afrim said. “Concentrate! One, two, three!”  
Frank tried to pour as much magic into the spell as possible. They needed to get out of here; he needed to get the others out of here safely. They spoke the spell and Frank felt how the magic was being dragged out of him. His knees became weak and his vision grew blurry. Frank felt his legs give away underneath him.

The bright light was blinding him. Frank was in a room with wide walls. The smell of potions lay in the air. A young witch in beige robes let some sort of potion drop onto his skin. There was a bronze bracelet around her waist.   
Frank believed he was back at Saint Mungo’s. He had preferred not to remember what had happened there, but in this moment, he had no choice. So-called Healers pouring potions into him against his will, trying to weaken him rather than help, secretly plotting his death. He wasn’t going to let it happen again.  
With one quick movement, he knocked the potion vial out of the woman’s hand. “Get off me!” he screamed.  
The young witch took a step backwards and said something Frank couldn’t understand.   
“Get away, get away!” he yelled again but she didn’t move. He tried to get out of his bed but his legs were too weak to carry him. Frank tried to ignore this and attempted to stumble out of his bad, somehow, anyhow. He needed to attack her so he could escape.   
The woman raised her wand and muttered a spell. Frank felt his strength leave him. He fell back onto the blankets, the same thing that had happened to him so many times at Saint Mungo’s. Helpless, in the hands of people who meant to harm him. He had thought he had escaped this nightmare but it had caught up with him again.  
The young witch left the room, Frank was alone.  
He attempted to fight the curse off, to move again but it wouldn’t work. Not yet. He was bound to his bed.   
Slowly, the things that had happened drifted through his mind again. The foreign Aurors, the cave, the curses, the Horcrux, Voldemort’s words, the breaking of the wards. Had they failed? Had they captured him again, returned him to this “place of healing” which in truth was a prison?

Frank flinched as the door was opened. He had hoped he’d be alone long enough so he could try to escape. They weren’t going to make this mistake again.  
Three people walked into the room. A man with dark grey hair and glasses wearing the same beige robes the young witch had worn before. Beige, why beige? Weren’t their robes supposed to be lime-green? Frank had never understood why Healers would wear the colour of Slytherin of all things.  
“Frank, what’s the matter,” a familiar voice said, Afrim. The two people accompanying the man were Afrim and Nada. “Why did you attack the Healer?”  
“Everything’s alright. You fainted but we go you away by side-along-apparition,” the woman by his side added, Nada. “You’re at Mileva Tasic-Hospital back in Belgrade.”  
“I’d like to leave,” Frank said. He believed them that he wasn’t at Saint Mungo’s but he still didn’t feel comfortable here at all. “I don’t like hospitals.”  
“I’ve figured that much out,” the third man said, his voice was slightly hoarse. “Healer Maric is my name. It’s probably been a mistake to assign you to someone who doesn’t speak English. You will have to stay here for a few days though I’m afraid. You’ve strained your magic. Nothing serious but we need to monitor your condition for at least 48 hours. Everything else would be irresponsible so please don’t do anything rash.”  
“You can trust our Healers,” Nada said. “And we’ll keep an eye on you as well. It’s standard procedure when an Auror gets injured on a mission.”

 

Frank sighed. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself even more than he had already done. No matter how uncomfortable he was, he’d need to stay. This was the Serbian wizarding hospital, no Death Eaters were working here or at least he hoped so.  
“I’d like to examine your magic now if you don’t mind,” Maric said.  
Frank did mind but he knew that protesting would be futile. He hated those magic diagrams he couldn’t really read and he hated Healers who wanted to tell him things about his own magic. Frank couldn’t deny that he was worried about the things Maric might tell him. He hadn’t had one taken since the attack.   
“I’ll have to, won’t I?”  
“We’re not going to take any measures without your consent if they aren’t necessary for your own or our safety,” Healer Maric said. “It would be highly advisable though.” He smiled slightly. “Depending on the result you might be allowed to leave earlier as well.”  
Frank shrugged. “Let’s get it over with.”  
In the past, Frank hadn’t been able to feel the magic test at all. This had changed. He sensed the foreign intrusion into his magic only too well and his entire being tried to resist it. It was useless though. Frank’s resisting magic didn’t seem to achieve anything against the spell Maric was using.

The Healer drew his diagram, signed it with his name and said: “I’d like to discuss the results with you now and I’d rather do it in private.”  
“Alright, we’re leaving,” Nada said before Frank could tell Maric that he didn’t want to hear anything he had to say. If the Healer’s tone was anything to go by, the results wouldn’t be good.  
“We’ll be back later,” Afrim said.   
When the two Aurors had left, Maric said: “I understand why you’re so reluctant to trust a Healer now. I still wish you not to judge all members of our profession by the actions of one forsworn person. You’re an Auror and need to know the truth; therefore I’m not going to sugar-coat it. Your magical resistance is severely weakened by lingering dark magic. I have to advise you to avoid any further contact with dark magic until this has been remedied but I’m aware of the fact that this probably isn’t very practical in your case.”  
“You’re right,” Frank said. He surely wouldn’t hide away because of the damage Lestrange had done to his magic. If it would kill him, so be it but at least it hadn’t kept him from doing his duty.  
“Apart from that, your magic doesn’t show any abnormalities but due to the Cruciatus curse-induced illness there are fewer connections than normal in a wizard of your position. This is the reason for the problem that led you here but you’ve already begun to remedy this successfully with magic training and I’m positive that this problem will vanish soon. Once again, please don’t overdo it until then.”  
“I’ll do my best,” Frank said.

“There are some traces of the curse left as well but they shouldn’t pose a severe problem,” Maric said. “Am I correct to assume that you’re suffering from headaches, cramps and nightmares from time to time?”  
“Yes, but it’s already improved,” Frank said. This was the truth and he wasn’t going to whine about something as minor as that. Muggle pain-killing pills had usually been enough to counter this; he had brought a few of them with him.  
“Probably, you’ll overcome this completely eventually,” Maric said. “Until then you could drink Goldberry leaf-potion when the symptoms are giving you trouble.”  
“I’ll get along,” Frank said. Goldberry leaf-potion was an option of course but he preferred to keep this discrete and Muggle. The damage to his magical resistance was the most pressing matter.  
“Is there something I can do to strengthen my magical resistance again?” Frank asked.   
“The usual spells will help to a certain extent and so will Goldberry but I have to admit that I don’t know of a way to undo the damage completely. You don’t usually come across Cruciatus curse users who are also able to do healing magic. Some people even claim that they’re mutually exclusive. I know that this is not true but I’m afraid I can’t really help you there. You should see a Cruciatus curse expert. He could give you more in-depth information about the damage you’ve suffered as well.”  
A Cruciatus curse expert was the last person Frank wanted to see but he didn’t say so aloud. The man only wanted to help even though he obviously couldn’t do anything for Frank’s chronic problems. They had successfully helped him after the Horcrux search though.  
“Unfortunately, the number of Healers with expertise in this era is very small,” Maric continued. “Many of my colleagues shy away from deeper studies into the subject matter because they fear the temptation of the dark arts. I’m no exception there.”

“A fear that isn’t unfounded,” Frank said. “One of the people who did this to me used to be the Cruciatus curse expert of the British wizarding hospital. He has decided to broaden his expertise by actually using the curse.”  
“I suspected something along those lines,” Maric said. “There’s one person I can recommend though. Belenus Derwent of the California Hospital for Spelldamage, Berkeley. An excellent man who’s integrity is out of doubt. I used to learn from him for a year but not much about this specific subject matter.”  
“Thank you for the suggestion,” Frank said politely.   
He didn’t really intend to visit Derwent in the US. The man had been Lestrange’s teacher and always defended him. He had actually left Britain in protest over Lestrange’s dismissal. Frank surely wasn’t going to entrust himself to him but Maric didn’t need to know that.   
“Very well, that was all. I really would recommend you to take your strengthening potion now rather than throw it to the floor. This will speed up your release from our care.”  
“I’m sorry. I misinterpreted the situation completely,” Frank said. “Please tell your colleague that I’m apologising for my behaviour from earlier.”  
“Apologize accepted from my side,” Maric said. “We’re Healers and we know to expect this kind of behaviour from a patient in your condition.”  
Frank hated the implication that he wasn’t in control of his behaviour but he knew it wasn’t completely unfounded.

When Frank had taken his potion, Maric left him alone in an unlocked ward after Frank had promised not to run away. He waited for Nada and Afrim to return and spent the time thinking about his magic problems. Frank really needed to train himself more and maybe he should get himself Goldberry potion as well. He might be lucky and the potion would undo the damage Lestrange had caused while breaking his resistance to the Cruciatus curse. Lestrange probably knew a counter spell as well, Frank thought with a mirthless laugh. He was the leading “expert” in the field no doubt but Frank couldn’t think of a reasonable way to get the knowledge from him. At least not as long as things were the way they were.  
The words of the Horcrux came to his mind. Had Lestrange really been the one who had undone the rest of the curses effects after casting it himself? Was this even possible? And why would he do that? Frank could only think of one possible explanation. He had wanted to practice his skills on him and intended to kill him later.  
A conversation between two Healers he had overheard came to his mind.   
“Where’s Alice Longbottom?”  
“Didn’t you hear? She’s gone.” Frank still heard the odd tone of this statement.  
“But her husband’s still there?”  
“He is, but not for much longer anymore.”

At this moment, there had been no doubt in Frank’s mind. Alice had been killed and he was supposed to be next. He had always believed that she had been dead anyway. “I failed them,” had been the only coherent thought he had been capable off during his illness. Frank had pretended to be too ill to understand. He used the first opportunity to slip out of the ward and leave the hospital.  
Frank had never doubted that she was dead, was he supposed to? The Healers’ statement could mean something else of course. Maybe she had indeed become a prisoner. Had she been put into prison or even worse, enslaved, tortured and raped as Horcrux-Voldemort had implied? It was very unlikely that she was still alive but maybe, maybe she was. In this case he would be able to save her, he had to save her. Frank didn’t know if Alice would ever be able to forgive him in this case but he had to save her even if she’d never speak to him again afterwards.   
There was a faint hope Frank hardly dared to allow. “Gone” could have meant something else of course, gone home wherever home might be now. Or she had fled the country as some British Aurors had done or so Frank had heard from Nada. Maybe she was living somewhere, alive, happy and well. No, he couldn’t hope for something like that, his hopes would only be disappointed. Could Alice be happy and well at all, having her son murdered because of some prophecy and being left by her husband?   
Frank knew one thing for sure though. Trying to find out the truth about Alice’s fate was the next thing he had to do, no matter the cost. It was his duty to his wife, a duty he should have done much earlier.  
There was only one hint he had, the former Hogwarts students Anthony Goldstein. Maybe Goldstein was in contact with other members of the British resistance. If Frank managed to contact him, he might find out more. It wasn’t much but it was all he had for now. As soon as he was able to leave the hospital he’d travel to Goldstein’s next book presentation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you were wondering, Voldemort decided to remove the Horcruxes from their original hiding place after Ron and Hermione escaped imprisonment. He knew that Bellatrix had said too much while interrogating Hermione and decided this was safer because no one would look for them abroad.


	16. The Wind is Changing

The Death Eater meeting had been one of the longest Rodolphus remembered. They had started at 10 am, by now it was late in the afternoon. Rodolphus hadn’t thought he’d have to leave the children with the House Elves for so long but compared to the things the Dark Lord had been telling them, this was a minor issue indeed.  
“Rodolphus, step to the front,” he said after assigning tasks to many of the assembled Death Eaters. They were supposed to travel abroad, pass the Dark Lord’s plans on to the local Death Eater organisations and lead the attacks he had planned. Rodolphus wasn’t very keen on this kind of task. He hadn’t planned any attacks for years. The last had actually been the one on the Longbottoms which hadn’t been exactly successful.   
He knelt down as the Dark Lord still demanded in meetings of the inner circle. “What do you wish me to do, my Lord?”  
“You have listened carefully to what I have laid out so far, haven’t you Rodolphus?”  
“Surely, Master.”  
“Very good. This way you will be aware of the magnitude of the plan we’re going to put into action. There will be deaths and injuries among our enemies and it would be unreasonable to expect that there won’t be any retribution. There will be wounded supporters to take care of. Make sure that Saint Mungo-Hospital is capable of dealing with this situation. Enough room needs to be available as well as a sufficient amount of healing potions and ingredients. Evaluate the amount of available people and material and provide additions if necessary. Prepare the Healers for less comfortable times.”  
“Yes my Lord. I’ll take care of that,” Rodolphus said. He wouldn’t have needed the Dark Lord’s orders to think of these things.

“It is of utmost importance that the public and the media don’t learn about our plans yet,” the Dark Lord continued. “Therefore avoid telling your staff the reasons for these changes if possible.”  
“I will do my best,” Rodolphus promised.  
“There’s something else,” the Dark Lord added.  
“Yes?” Rodolphus fought the feeling of disquiet.   
“You’re aware of the great value your unique skills have in a war, are you not?”  
Rodolphus wasn’t quite sure what he was talking about. Simply saying “yes” without knowing to what didn’t seem to be a good idea. He let his confusion pass through his barriers for the Dark Lord to pick up.   
“I’m talking about your intimate knowledge of the Cruciatus curse of course,” the Dark Lord said. “The secrets you’ve shared only with Mr Longbottom must be guarded carefully. Neither you nor he may pass them on to anyone who has ties to foreign Healers. Making it public is out of the question as well.”  
Rodolphus considered if this interfered with his plans in any way. Dorothy Prewett didn’t have ties to foreign Healers as far as Rodolphus knew.   
“We didn’t intend to publish it anyway,” he said. This had been a dream of Rodolphus’ youth but these days had long passed. “And we will guard it even more carefully now of course.”

“Good. It’s possible that we will need your knowledge about interrogation techniques as well. Your suggestion to modify Veritaserum so it could be administered over the skin has proven highly effective.”  
“Thank you Master,” Rodolphus said.   
“Too bad your wife didn’t use the results the way I would have wished her to last time but I shall deal with her later.”  
Rodolphus felt slightly worried at this statement. In the past, this kind of hint had never meant anything good. The Dark Lord had already made it clear that he didn’t approve of Bellatrix’ decision to extradite the recently captured Grindelwald supporters to Germany. She had done so for the sake of keeping up an appearance of good diplomatic relations. They had planned an attack on Diagon Alley and the Dark Lord would have preferred to make an example of them.  
“We might need your skills to optimize interrogations,” the Dark Lord continued. “Your skills and Longbottom’s as well. It would be an excellent opportunity for him to prove his loyalty, don’t you agree?”  
“I’m certain that Neville Longbottom will do everything in his powers to make sure that our injured comrades receive the best possible treatment,” Rodolphus said. “He doesn’t have any specific expertise in the era of enforcement however. Access to these matters has always been restricted to marked members. You never wished for anyone else to learn about it.”   
Rodolphus knew that Neville would never agree to do what the Dark Lord had proposed. He hadn’t learned to use the Cruciatus curse and he didn’t approve of its use either. Rodolphus hoped that the Dark Lord would realise this rather than attempt to knowingly force a useful person into trouble. The proper treatment of war casualties wasn’t possible if the hospital lost one of its best Healers. 

“You’re right of course,” the Dark Lord said. “These areas have always been restricted to marked members. He should take the mark. I wanted him to do so back in 1998 though I appreciated his difficult situation. Times have changed now however. I want him to become a Death Eater.”  
Rodolphus carefully hid his thoughts and feelings once again. Neville, becoming a Death Eater so he could participate in torture which was kept secret from the ordinary citizens? He would rather die than agree to that, Rodolphus knew this. Neville already supported enemies of the Dark Lord; he’d never take the mark, not even if it wasn’t for this specific purpose.   
“I shall inform him about your wish of course,” Rodolphus said. “It will probably come as a surprise though. So far, Neville has strongly believed that a Healer shouldn’t take upon himself any obligations beyond his oath. Like most Healers do, actually. None of them is a member of our circle. I’ll need time.”  
“Lord Voldemort will give you one month. We won’t need his service any earlier than that.”  
“Thank you, Master,” Rodolphus said without feeling anything close to gratefulness. One month wasn’t much but it might be enough to come up with a solution. At the moment, his mind was completely blank. He knew that the Dark Lord probably wouldn’t compromise. Whenever he started referring to himself in third person, danger was brewing.   
“That is all. You may return to your seat.”  
Rodolphus obeyed, contemplating the problem in his mind.

“Listen my Death Eaters, the time of the Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers shall soon be over. Not only in our glorious land but all over Europe. The path to this goal won’t be easy but it is worth it, isn’t it?”  
Everyone answered with yes even though Rodolphus strongly doubted it was really worth it. He couldn’t care less about Mudbloods in France, Germany or the Balkans countries. To him, the UK was more than enough. He wanted his children to grow up in peace and improve the knowledge of healing magic available.   
“The Mudbloods and Blood’s Traitors of Europe will find themselves facing an unprecedented campaign of terror while the true pure-bloods will finally be able to rise from the filth they’ve been forced to live among and take on the place they deserve. We will lead Europe’s pure-bloods to freedom and destroy the unworthy. Are you prepared for the purge of Europe?”  
The Death Eaters answered with a chorused yes.  
“Are you prepared for the magnification of our glorious empire?”  
“Yes we are!”  
“Are you prepared for a merciless war upon everyone unworthy to carry magic?”  
“Yes, we are!”  
“Good! The lying traitor Anthony Goldstein has to die. The first attempt has failed, the second one may not! Fail again and you will face the wrath of Lord Voldemort!”  
Rodolphus looked at Ian Mulciber who tried to give the Dark Lord a confident look The Imperius curse specialist belonged to the original inner circle, one of the Dark Lord’s first Death Eaters. The death of Goldstein seemed to be highly important to the Dark Lord, otherwise he wouldn’t send such a trusted supporter to kill him. The other tasks had been given to newer members. Rodolphus considered this more reasonable because they were younger and better able to fight.   
“The same goes for the treacherous Headmistress of Durmstrang, Galina Achatowa. Antonin Dolohov, I put my full trust into you.”  
“Thank you Master,” the Russian-born Death Eater muttered. He too was with the Dark Lord ever since he had met him on his early journeys. Rodolphus was quite positive that Dolohov wouldn’t fail. 

“Very well. This should be settled then,” the Dark Lord said. “When we take the fight to Europe, security at home must be given even higher priority than usual. I’m talking to you Bella but everyone else is required to do his or her part as well. It should be obvious that we need to do everything magically possible to keep witches and wizards from abroad entering our country without permission. The recent incident should give us a good excuse to put this into action.”  
This was definitely sensible, Rodolphus thought. Those Grindelwald supporters were a serious threat and he knew that many other European countries had groups of dangerous dark wizards or Aurors working abroad as well. He charmed a quill to write down everything the Dark Lord was saying now. Otherwise he might not be able to keep track and it sounded important.   
“The common people in our country as well as in the others are not to be informed about our plans so far if it is avoidable. The newspapers and radio stations may not mention it anywhere. If things go as planned, we should be able to achieve our goal without any official declaration of war. Everyone who does spread classified information will have to suffer the consequences. When the time comes, I shall inform the public in person”  
Rodolphus didn’t like this dishonesty but he understood why the Dark Lord was doing it of course. Many people mainly supported the new regime because they didn’t want to threaten the peace and return to the dark times of war. If the Dark Lord’s plans became known too quickly, there might be trouble.

“We cannot purge Europe of traitors and unworthy ones as long as we’re not free of these ourselves. Everyone who works against us in any fashion or does anything else which is meant to weaken our position in the upcoming war shall be prosecuted mercilessly. This also applies to people who speak up against war in general or the use of certain forms of magic in war. Everyone who is not a citizen of this country will be put into custody and punished accordingly if he or she doesn’t have a good explanation for their presence. People unable to apply for personal citizenship because of physical or mental illness are required to get an examination by you, Rodolphus that assures us that they are in fact unable.”  
Rodolphus suppressed a sigh. This would mean lots of tedious extra work. This model was rather popular among families of people who had been injured during the war and weren’t exactly loyal supporters of the Dark Lord. Neville’s mother was one of them.   
“This shouldn’t be handed out lightly. People in this category are henceforth banned from leaving Saint Mungo-Hospital or the house and property of their caretaker without the company of their caretaker or a marked Death Eater. If they are incapable of applying for citizenship, this is necessary for their own and others safety. Rabastan, you shall make those new rules public as soon as possible.”  
“Yes Master.”  
“Wizards and witches who have been enemies of our regime in the past and wish to apply for citizenship shall have to plea for clemency in front of myself and all of you. Simply handing in a written declaration shall not be enough in these cases. This rule applies to former members of the organisations calling themselves “Order of the Phoenix” and “Dumbledore’s Army” as well as any former Aurors and participants in the illegal radio station Potterwatch or any other illegal activity. That was all. You may go. Only Bella will remain. We have to discuss your failure in dealing with the captured Grindelwald supporters appropriately. To the rest, have a good evening.”

***

Using the killing curse to exterminate weed was a waste of magic, Rodolphus knew that. It was excellent stress relief as well though. He was worried about Bellatrix. The Dark Lord wasn’t in a very clement mood at the moment, that much had become clear during the meeting.   
That wasn’t Rodolphus’ only problem though. The amount of unpleasant news he had to bring to Neville was stifling. The Dark Lord planned to make him become a Death Eater and participate in torture and he required his mother to go through the humiliating procedure of pleading for clemency in front of the Dark Lord himself and all the Death Eaters. Rodolphus thought he might be able to make Neville believe that it was better for the tortured prisoners if they were under medical supervision but it would definitely not be easy. The issue with Alice was difficult as well. He probably could declare her ill enough to require Neville’s guardianship without doing any real examination but then she’d be almost a prisoner in their own house, especially when Neville had to work more due to the new developments. Rodolphus didn’t think she’d agree to plead for mercy in front of everyone. Theodore Nott had been close to persuading her to fill out the form but this wasn’t enough for the Dark Lord anymore. If only they had acted more quickly. Rodolphus had to be open with Neville and explain the situation the way it depicted itself. He needed to know what was going on so he could make an informed decision. This was the best course in the healing arts and the situation at hand was no different. 

Another plant went brown as it was hit by a green flash of light. There was something thrilling about this curse, a feeling of power unmatched by any of the others. Rodolphus was familiar with all three of the curses which had once been called “unforgivable” and he considered all of them fascinating though the second one the most.   
Despite of his interest in those curses, Rodolphus could not approve of the plans for dealing with the rest of Europe which the Dark Lord had announced at the meeting. Rodolphus had felt as if he had travelled thirty years into the past, the Dark Lord’s strategies hadn’t changed at all. This strategy if you could call it such had worked in Great Britain, but only because the former Ministry had been extremely corrupt and incompetent and many of the old, respected pure-blood families had supported the Dark Lord. The Death Eaters’ efforts to rebuild everything properly after Potter’s death had probably played their part as well. The other ministries might not be any better, Rodolphus didn’t know, but their pure-blood families weren’t interested in the Dark Lord.   
Grindelwald had fallen quickly when he had tried what the Dark Lord was planning now. 

Rodolphus wasn’t sure if they weren’t going to lose Neville before he even learned about the Dark Lord’s plans. He hadn’t gotten in touch since his Memory Potion had worked. It was quite possible that the memories he had seen would bring his Gryffindor recklessness back to the surface and make him do something unreasonable. A mistake Rodolphus had to keep him from. If he wouldn’t get a message from Neville soon, he’d probably visit the Longbottoms a second time. He knew that he could get there via the Floo-network now.  
The use of the killing curse made him tired but there was still plenty of weed on the path that led to the gate. Rodolphus decided to use the herbicide potion after all; otherwise he’d never get this over with.   
Roderic and Roxana were inside playing Gobstones. Rodolphus watched them with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Never before had he been so worried about their future. He had believed that they had it made and now this.   
He went downstairs to his potions storeroom and fetched the herbicide. It killed the weeds fare more quickly and efficiently than the killing curse. Rodolphus used a spell that turned the dead plants into earth quickly and another one to destroy the herbicide before he put the earth into a bag. It could be used to plant something in a place where he actually wanted it.  
He had just finished when an owl arrived. Rodolphus recognised it. The tawny owl belonged to the Longbottoms. At least, a message from Neville. Rodolphus quickly unfolded the piece of parchment. Neville thanked him for his help and requested a meeting to check if his magic allowed for a return to work.   
Rodolphus thought that it would be best if they met as quickly as possible. He’d have the chance to find out if Neville’s feelings had changed in any way. Rodolphus decided to simply contact the Longbottoms via the mirror to tell him so. 

The entire Longbottom family was in the living-room together. Neville seemed to have recovered rather well. The children were playing on the floor while Hannah and Alice argued in the background.   
“I know you don’t want to believe this but I know him much better than you do,” Alice said.   
“You only know what Dumbledore has told you.”  
“I’ve met him in person.”  
Neville motioned them to be quiet. “Good evening,” he said.  
“Good evening Neville. I’ve just received your message. I’ll send you owl back this evening. How are you?”  
“I’m fine, thanks. The potion worked the way it was supposed to now.”  
“I’m glad to hear it. You could come around tomorrow if you don’t have any other plans. If everything’s alright you can go back to work on Monday.”  
Neville smiled at this. He loved his work as much as Rodolphus had in the past. As far as he could see via the mirror, the memories hadn’t changed much.  
“That’s fine,” Neville said and they decided on a time.  
“Dad, can I talk to Debbie?” Roxana asked. Rodolphus had no objections. He didn’t want to discuss any details with the children and the Longbottom women listening.   
Rodolphus listened to the two children chatting and his mind drifted elsewhere again. It was past eight already and Bellatrix was still with the Dark Lord. He wasn’t jealous, given the situation, there wasn’t the slightest reason to be, he was worried. 

Roxana interrupted these thoughts. “Dad, Debbie would like to visit me now after all. Can she?”  
Rodolphus was surprised to hear this. Neville hadn’t wanted his daughter to stay in their house on her own so far.   
“Yes, she can but not right now. I have to talk to your mother first.”   
Her daughter’s meetings with her friends were probably rather low on the list of Bellatrix’ priorities at the moment, Rodolphus thought. “It will probably not be possible right away.”  
Roxana passed the message on and they spent a bit more time talking. Afterwards, the three of them ate a quick dinner. The children wanted to know where their mother was. “She has a meeting with the Dark Lord,” Rodolphus said.  
He had barely finished eating, when his own mark burned. “Listen, Roxy, Roderic, the Dark Lord wants to see me too now. I hope we’ll be back soon, Mimi’s there if you need anything.”  
The children took this calmly; it wasn’t the first time they had to leave them in the care of the House Elves. 

Rodolphus apparated back to the shore from where he could get to the Dark Lord’s underground fortress. It wasn’t exactly convenient to reach and his motivation wasn’t very high either at the moment. He had just been here two hours ago.   
“Good evening Rodolphus,” he said, a slight smile playing around his thin lips. “I want you to take your wife home, I’m not sure if she’ll be able to apparate on her own.”  
“As you wish, my Lord,” Rodolphus said dispassionately.   
Bellatrix lay on the floor, bent double, her face white in sharp contrast to her black hair. “Bellatrix, do you understand me?” he asked as if he was talking to a random patient.   
She muttered something that sounded like “yes.”   
“What’s you maiden name?”  
“Black,” she said a hint of pride in her voice.   
Rodolphus knew that she would be alright. Again.   
“Is there anything else?” Rodolphus asked the Dark Lord.  
“Tell her that I won’t tolerate this highhandedness again. She must not show this kind of softness towards captured enemies.”  
“I’ll tell her,” Rodolphus said. “Good night.”  
He walked over to Bellatrix again and cast a quick strengthening charm. Everything else would be done at home but he wanted to spare her the humiliation of carrying her out of the Dark Lord’s presence.  
The charm was effective and she managed to stagger outside on her own. As soon as they had left the Dark Lord, Rodolphus helped her walk to the entrance. The curse’s effects on her muscles made it almost impossible for her to walk. 

It had started all over again. The Dark Lord had seemingly forgone this kind of thing during the last years but the issue with the Grindelwald-supporters had obviously changed this.   
When they finally reached the shore, Rodolphus cast a spell on Bellatrix that put her into a dreamless and painless sleep. He didn’t ask for her consent which she probably wouldn’t have given but her health was more important to him. Bellatrix wasn’t supposed to face the combined effects of the Cruciatus curse and the Dementors. She had been through this before and he didn’t want a repetition.   
Learning to do the Patronus charm could prove really useful, Rodolphus thought as they sailed through the Dementor-induced mists. Especially during his first months as a Death Eater, the Dark Lord had taken special pleasure from making Rodolphus watch him torture Bellatrix, daring him to protest. In the very beginning, he had been foolish enough to do so but he had learned better quickly. By now, he had become so good at hiding his feelings that he wasn’t aware of them himself anymore.   
The Aurors had been quite taken aback by this when they had attempted to follow into the Dark Lord’s footsteps.   
Rodolphus suspected that a part of her was hurt by his seeming indifference but she had never admitted it. Most of her knew like he did that it was the reasonable choice.   
The Dark Lord’s Dementors were gliding around them; maybe he had ordered them to do so. Rodolphus wouldn’t put it past him. 

There had been times during his captivity at the Ministry where Rodolphus had seriously expected to die suffering from the same affliction he had cured and induced before.   
For once, luck had favoured him however. The Aurors had unknowingly given him a great gift. They had destroyed the Memory Charm which had been put on him to make him forget the knowledge and experience he had gained as a Healer. Rodolphus had never lost his gift and he had had books and reports to read but it hadn’t been enough to get him anywhere close to the skills he had had before. In Azkaban, everything returned to him. Bringing the memory of the Cruciatus curse use to the surface, the Dementors had reminded him of his knowledge again and again. This way he had been able to get through well and help the others afterwards.  
His views about the Dark Lord however had never been the same after this. He definitely needed to ask Neville about the Patronus charm. The young Healer used it to help his patients, with considerable success or so Rodolphus had heard.  
When they finally reached the other shore, Rodolphus took his sleeping wife into his arms and apparated with her back to their house.

“Dad, is Mum ill?” Roxy’s eyes were wide with worry. Roderic frowned and looked at his mother’s sleeping from very intently.  
Rodolphus suppressed a sigh. He had hoped that the children would already be in bed.   
“Your mother has suddenly fallen ill,” he explained. “I need to take care of her so she can get better again. Please don’t disrupt us; I’ll be with you later.”  
On his journey home he had almost forgotten about the children. They had never witnessed this kind of punishment so far and neither Bellatrix nor Rodolphus had ever described the Dark Lord as anything other than a just and able leader. Telling them the truth was definitely out of question. They needed to stay away from Bellatrix until she was better.  
Both children looked extremely worried but they obeyed him and remained in the living-room. Rodolphus took Bellatrix to the room they had specifically prepared for the needs of ill family members. So far, it had mainly hosted the children after accidents or with childhood illnesses. Rodolphus pulled Bellatrix’ Death Eater cloak off and laid her down on the bed. He would have preferred to keep her under the sleeping spell for now but it was too dangerous. Her body wasn’t able to fight the curse this way which would only delay her recovery. 

“Where am I?” she asked, her voice hoarse, probably from the screaming.   
“I’ve taken you home. You’re in our sick room for the moment. I’d like to begin with your treatment now.”  
“No, you can’t. I failed the Dark Lord, I deserve this pain,” she whispered.  
Rodolphus had lost count of the number of times they had had this conversation in the past. Anger and frustration were replacing his carefully groomed indifference. He had really believed this was over and now everything was starting all over again. There was no security; he could shatter their carefully built new lives at a moment’s notice. His manic plans for Europe could destroy everything and bring suffering and death to countless people. Rodolphus was trapped in this nightmare once more. Still, there was no point in telling Bellatrix any of this. He needed to resort to the usual strategy.  
“The Dark Lord needs you to do your work well,” he told her. “He gains nothing from you being sick. I’m certain he wouldn’t have called me to fetch you if he didn’t expect me to help you.”  
He spoke calmly as the situation commanded but he would have liked nothing better than to shout at someone. The entire thing was so nonsensical. The Dark Lord tortured Bellatrix, expected Rodolphus to heal her so he could torture her some more. This was the “new” strategy he wished to use against the Grindelwald-supporters now. It was already tried and tested on his most loyal supporter.  
“He didn’t tell you to treat me, did he?” Bellatrix asked.  
“He didn’t tell me explicitly but I’m certain he assumed I’d do so.”  
“I can’t believe that,” Bellatrix responded. “I need to know for sure.”  
What did she expect him to do now? Apparate to the Dark Lord’s fortress and ask if he was allowed to treat her? Rodolphus was certain that the Dark Lord would not appreciate that.

“Dad, what’s wrong with Mum?”  
Roderic had walked into the room, unnoticed. Rodolphus clenched his fists so he didn’t do anything more clearly noticeable. Couldn’t he have stayed out as he was supposed to?   
The boy looked at this mother’s pale face and saw the haunted look in her eyes. He turned back to his father. “It’s the same thing Neville’s Mum has, isn’t it?”  
Rodolphus had no idea what he was supposed to answer to that.   
“It’s the Cruciatus curse, isn’t it?”  
“How do you know?” Rodolphus asked slowly, realising that this was the wrong thing to say if he wanted to keep the truth from his son. That wasn’t really possible anymore though.   
“She told me at Flourish and Blotts,” Roderic said quietly. “When I saw her for the first time.”  
Rodolphus remembered this conversation as well now. He had considered putting an end to it but not done it. Maybe he should have.

“The Dark Lord did it to Mum, didn’t he?”   
Before Rodolphus could think of anything to tell him, Bellatrix said: “That’s right, Roderic. I failed him and he had to punish me.”  
Rodolphus had never seen his son look as alarmed as he did now when he heard how his mother’s voice sounded.   
Rodolphus filled a glass with water. “Drink that,” he told her. At least the dryness of her throat could be remedied this way.  
Bellatrix gave him as suspicious look. “Is it really only water?”  
“Yes, it’s only water,” Rodolphus said patiently. Bellatrix started to drink hesitantly. It was very likely that the curse had affected her sense of taste as well.   
Roderic stared at her uncomprehendingly. “It’s Dad. He would never give you anything harmful.”  
“I know,” Bellatrix said. “He wants to give me a healing potion but he mustn’t. I deserve this punishment.”  
Roderic sat down beside her and took her hand into his own. Rodolphus was surprised to see that she allowed it. “No Mum, you do not deserve this. I’ve discussed the Cruciatus curse with Dad and with Neville’s Mum-“  
“You have done what?” Rodolphus started to ask before realising that this wasn’t the moment to discuss Roderic’s inclination to ask everyone inappropriate questions. 

Roderic ignored his father’s remark; maybe he had heard the change of tone in the middle of the question.   
“You don’t deserve that. He has no right to do this to you.”  
“The Dark Lord can do to me whatever he wishes,” Bellatrix whispered. “You don’t understand.”  
Roderic fell silent, sitting there by her side. Rodolphus couldn’t help thinking about an even more terrible truth he never wanted the boy to find out about. Bellatrix had become pregnant during their time at Hogwarts. The war hadn’t been completely over yet and the Dark Lord hadn’t let her condition keep him from treating her the way he always did. It had taken every ounce of skill Rodolphus possessed to keep Roderic alive through pregnancy and through the first months of his life.   
He had not been able to save their first son. The boy would already be a man now, almost exactly Neville’s age. If everything had gone according to plan, he would have been born on July 27.1980. They had already chosen a name, Rigel, a star name that started with R. Azkaban had given Rodolphus plenty of time to think about it. By now, he didn’t believe that it had been an accident anymore. The Dark Lord had been so interested in the other two boys born at the end of July 1980, Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom. He also hadn’t wanted to share Bellatrix’ devotion with a child. Rodolphus had never told Bellatrix about his suspicions of course. It would have done no good.   
Bellatrix had kept telling people how gladly she’d give her sons up for the Dark Lord but no one other than her husband had known that she had already done so, anything but willingly. Since Roderic had been born, she had never said this again.   
Watching his wife and son together like that, Rodolphus knew that he wouldn’t allow this to happen if there was anything he could do about it, anything at all. His own life wasn’t very valuable anymore but the lives of his children who had so much promising talent were.

When Roxana came walking through the door as well, he wasn’t really surprised. Rodolphus really didn’t want her to know what had truly happened though. Roderic was a different matter. He had already been touched by this madness, Roxana had been spared that. He didn’t want to shatter her innocence and trust in the world around her, not yet.   
“I wanted to see how Mum is,” she said quietly. “Roderic’s here so I can be too, can’t I?”  
Rodolphus didn’t say anything which Roxana interpreted as a yes. She walked to her mother’s side as well and stepped around her bed. “You have a really bad headache, Mum,” she said, gently touching Bellatrix’ forehead.   
“I’m sorry Mum; I can’t make it go away. It’s too strong.”  
Rodolphus had to fight down his own despair when he heard the sadness and helplessness in the girl’s voice. “This is still too difficult for you, you’re much too young,” he told her. “I can help your mother though if she lets me.”   
It was true for the after effects of this one curse, but he was as helpless as the child as far as the entire situation between Voldemort and Bellatrix was concerned.   
“Why won’t you let Dad help you, Mum?” Roxy asked.  
“You wouldn’t understand,” she said.   
“Please Mum, I don’t want you to hurt,” Roxy said.   
Bellatrix sighed. “You’re probably right. It won’t do anyone any good when I’m ill.”

“Good,” Rodolphus said relieved. “You’re right. It won’t do anyone any good. I really want you to leave now, Roderic, Roxy. I need to concentrate on my job. You’ve done what you could to help.”  
He half expected the children to protest but they did not. Both of them obviously grasped the gravity of the situation.   
“Dad, is Neville’s owl still there?” Roderic asked.  
Rodolphus was perplexed at the sudden change of subject. The boy was right though. He needed to remember to let the owl out afterwards or the Longbottoms would start to worry “Yes, I let her inside to give her some water and the Dark Lord called before I could send her off. She should be in the owl room.”  
“I could let her out,” Roderic said.  
“Yes, that’s a good idea,” Rodolphus said. “I almost forgot it. Thank you.” Maybe the boy was desperate for something to do. It was how Rodolphus felt in unpleasant situations he couldn’t influence.   
“No problem,” Roderic said before turning to his mother.


	17. Quarells and Shadows

The day on which Neville had his magic check with Lestrange started the way days in the Longbottom family usually tended to start plus the argument Alice and Hannah had been having ever since the barbecue party. Alice wanted to warn the younger woman of Voldemort’s real self and tried to tell her that she was in denial while Hannah accused her of living in the past, unable to accept the current situation.  
“Can’t you stop being so negative about everything?” Hannah asked in exasperation.  
“I don’t let myself be blinded,” Alice responded. “That’s all. What is it? Are you too cowardly or too stupid to face reality?”  
“I don’t have to listen to this,” Hannah shouted which was really unusual for her. “I’m off to work now Neville. When we’re back, we have to talk!”  
She stormed off, leaving a rather distraught Neville behind.  
“I wonder what she wants to discuss with you,” Alice said. “Does she want to get rid of me? Maybe tell You-Know-Who or the Death Eaters what I’m saying to her or what?”  
“I’m sure Hannah doesn’t want any such thing,” Neville said.  
Did she really believe that the woman she had been living with for eight years was capable of such treachery? It made Neville really sad. The fact that the children were listening with fearful eyes made it even worse. 

“If someone starts to admire the Dark Lord, there’s nothing and no one that matters to them anymore,” Alice said. “We kept saying so in the Order and I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”  
“Hannah doesn’t admire him that much, I’m certain of that,” Neville assured her. “But don’t you think you can give it a rest? She knows what you believe now. She’ll only get more stubborn if you keep talking to her like that.”  
“It’s hard to see my own daughter-in-law speak about him this way,” Alice said. “Seeing her admire those people. Her own mother was killed by them and she doesn’t even seem to care.”  
Neville sighed. He was glad that his mother hadn’t brought this topic up in Hannah’s presence but he knew it would be only a matter of time. Hannah’s mother had been killed in a Death Eater attack on Diagon Alley. The exact circumstances of her death were unclear. The Aurors had merely found her body after the fight. Hannah herself believed that she had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, hit by stray curses while doing her shopping. Kingsley suspected that Mrs Abbott had attempted to step in when she saw the Death Eaters tormenting Muggle-borns.  
“I’m sure she does care,” Neville said. “She believes her mother’s death was an accident though.”  
“That’s ridiculous. The Death Eaters don’t kill someone accidently. And even if this had been the case, she would never have died if it hadn’t been for them.”  
The last part of this statement was certainly true but Neville wasn’t sure about the first part. At the end of his sixth year, the Death Eaters had even killed one of their own by accident. 

Neville really didn’t know how he was supposed to help his mother and wife stop this argument. “I’ll try to explain to her why you feel this way when we talk.” That was all he could do.  
If he was still able to after the conversation with Lestrange. The Death Eater had given no hint of knowing anything he hadn’t known before but it was quite possible that he only was going to tell Neville when he had him nearby and not before when he’d have a chance to flee. This seemed to be the most pressing matter for Neville and the argument between his wife and mother was rather bothersome. He didn’t wish to worry them with the truth though.  
The arrival of the family owl Lissy put an end to the conversation. There was a letter tied to Lissy’s leg which surprised Neville greatly. They had scheduled their meeting via the mirrors, why would Lestrange send him a letter? He was even more surprised when the owl landed in front of Alice and stretched her leg out so she could take the letter. Alice didn’t seem to wish to do so.

Neville took the letter before Lissy would get too disappointed. The words “From Roderic to Neville’s Mum” stood on the outside of the letter, written in the awkward, hardly legible manner of a child.  
“The letter’s from Roderic,” Neville said perplexed. “The Lestranges’ son.”  
“I know who Roderic is,” Alice said to his surprise. “Would you give it to me? I thought-“  
She didn’t finish her sentence and she didn’t have to. Alice had probably believed that one of the adult Lestranges had written a letter to her for whatever reason. Neville didn’t understand why Roderic would write to her. He didn’t intend to ask what had happened to her in a letter, did he?  
Neville handed the letter to his mother and she got up, leaving her half-eaten cereals behind.  
“It’s okay,” Francis said. “Gran and Roderic talked for a long time when we met on the playground a few weeks ago. Back when we were having this argument, I think she told you.”  
His mother hadn’t told Neville about this incident but there was no need to tell Francis that.  
Neville didn’t think that his toast really tasted well anymore but he didn’t get up from the breakfast table as long as they children were eating. Everyone running off like that was rather rude.

Alice returned after a little while but this time, she sent the children to their rooms so they’d fetch their books and parchment for her lesson before she spoke.  
“Something’s happened which made Roderic see what Hannah is so eager to deny.”  
“What’s happened?” Neville wanted to know. And why would Roderic write to his mother of all people?  
“Voldemort has tortured Bellatrix rather badly,” Alice explained. “Roderic understood what had happened of course and now he writes that he hates Voldemort. I’d really wish to hear this from Hannah but Roderic? If he says this aloud, his own mother will hand him over as a traitor.”  
The Lestranges seemed to love their children Neville thought, but he knew that no one could be sure if they didn’t love Voldemort more, especially Bellatrix. He didn’t understand why Voldemort had done something like that again. He had thought the Dark Lord had stopped behaving that way and begun to act like a normal leader. Was his mother really right and they had both been more delusional than he had thought possible? He didn’t want to imagine what Voldemort would do to non-supporters who got on his wrong side if he treated his favourite Death Eater like that.  
“I hope he didn’t tell them but even sending something like this via owl-post is extremely risky,” Alice said. “Would you take my response to Roderic and hand it to him directly? And do you think you could ask if Roderic can visit us when Deborah visits them? That’s already decided after all.” Without asking me, she didn’t say that but Neville knew she thought it. He didn’t like her suggestion too much. His situation was probably precarious enough as it was, he really didn’t wish to make it even more so by asking something like this. He could see his mother’s point though. 

“I’m not sure if there will be an opportunity,” he said. “And we should ask Francis. If he doesn’t want to stay here with him, I can’t really allow it.”  
Alice asked her grandson right away when he had returned with his things. To Neville’s surprise, Francis didn’t seem to object to the idea. “The last times we’ve met, we got along alright. And we learned a new game at the Bones’. I’d like to have another boy to play it with, sorry Deb.”  
“Alright, that’s settled then,” Alice said. “If the Lestranges don’t object.”  
Neville thought this was quite likely but he’d ask. If it made his mother feel better about Deborah’s visit at the Lestranges’ this was reason enough to try. Neville didn’t think there was much they could do for Roderic and his position with Voldemort.

When Neville reached the Lestranges’ home, Roderic was the one who opened the door. He looked pale and tired. Neither of his parents was anywhere near which allowed Neville to give him his mother’s letter. “My mother told me that you should burn it after reading,” he said. He didn’t like this kind of thing. His mother wouldn’t approve if Rodolphus gave Deborah letters in secret either but he didn’t want to argue and he knew she meant no harm.  
“Is your father home?”  
“Yes, he is. He’s with Mum I think. She’s been ill you know.”  
Neville wasn’t sure how to respond. His mother had told him about Bellatrix’ illness and the reasons for it but he didn’t know if he should tell the boy he knew. He was surprised to hear that she still seemed to require medical attention though. This was more than a simple quick Cruciatus curse use in punishment like the Carrows had done it. He didn’t know how Voldemort usually punished his supporters however so he couldn’t put it into perspective.  
“Is she seriously ill?” Neville asked, the boy could tell him as much as he wanted this way. He slipped slightly on the wet gravel. It had been raining softly all day.  
Roderic sighed. “She won’t die or anything. It’s just, the Dark Lord, well, he has tortured her. You know, I’ve read this word in the books on the Cruciatus curse but I never knew what it was supposed to mean. Now I know.”  
Neville had never seen the boy look so serious. He shouldn’t be faced with such things at this age. No child should.  
“Will you come in? We’re getting really wet.”  
They walked into the Lestranges’ hallway. The people on the portraits whispered to each other as always. Roderic slipped the letter into his pocket and called for his father.  
Neville took a deep breath, bracing himself for the meeting. 

Lestrange looked rather tired but otherwise unperturbed by the troubles his family was facing. Neville knew him well enough by now to be able to tell that this was his only way of showing that something was bothering him. On the pictures taken after Azkaban, he had looked tired as well. It was probably the effort of keeping his other emotions hidden.  
“Good morning, Neville.”  
“Good morning,” Neville said, trying to make his voice sound calm. If he wasn’t careful, Lestrange would guess from Neville’s behaviour that he had something to hide even if he hadn’t realised it before.  
He followed Lestrange to his study, the usual place where they discussed their work. Neville wasn’t sure if he was supposed to say something about Bellatrix or not. Lestrange hadn’t told him officially and Neville couldn’t really say that he felt sorry for her. She had chosen to become a Death Eater and she had no qualms about torturing other people so why should he pity her when she got a taste of it herself? He would treat her like any other patient if her husband wasn’t available of course, but Neville preferred not to be asked to fake concern or admit his lack of it.  
“Do you still suffer any side effects of the Memory Potion?” Lestrange asked when they had settled down.  
“No, I don’t. My magic seems to work normally again as well. It took a while but some spells actually feel easier now.”  
“I’m glad to hear that it has worked the way we hoped it would now,” Lestrange said. “Will you let me have a look at your magic once again?”  
“Of course,” Neville said. That was what he had come here for after all.  
Lestrange performed the spell that Neville had undergone many times during the last few weeks. When he looked upon the diagram he had drawn, he seemed quite satisfied.  
“Do you see? The barrier is gone. Your magic has re-formed and the old connections have returned. There’s unused potential now but you will surely discover this when you need it. Everything’s gone well.”  
“Good,” Neville said. “That was my feeling as well.” Lestrange’s words didn’t make it sound as if he wanted to have Neville arrested for disloyalty afterwards. If he did, there’d be no further chance to discover any new potential within his magic. He knew that Lestrange would probably become suspicious if he was too quick to leave though. He decided to ask about the “shadows” left behind by the Cruciatus curse. They had discussed this subject during his illness. He didn’t really care about the answer at the moment but it seemed safe to ask.

“Oh yes, you’re right. I almost forgot about that” Lestrange said after he had asked his question. “Most people believe that short exposure to the Cruciatus curse is harmless and has no lasting consequences of any kind. You know how the curse works and therefore you also know that it isn’t quite true. The effects seem to wear off completely but small traces linger behind and have a certain influence on the magic. The magic adapts to it. In strong and resilient people, the resistance against the Cruciatus curse improves. It does so at the expense of other aspects of magical resistance though. The person becomes more susceptible to Legilimency and to some magical and other illnesses as well. Wounds will heal more slowly. In your case, the sensitivity to the Medea’s Leaf ingredients in the Memory Potion became much stronger. You probably won’t even notice it under normal conditions though.”  
Neville didn’t think he was ill more often than other people. He wasn’t very good at Occlumency but Harry had never been either and he hadn’t been exposed to the Cruciatus curse very often. At least not as far as Neville knew.  
“People who do not have that strength or who are very young become more vulnerable to the Cruciatus curse in addition to the rest and their magic suffers permanent damage,” Lestrange continued. “That’s why using the Cruciatus curse on younger students was a grave mistake by the Carrows. I’m certain that we see some of our patients so frequently because of this.”  
Neville had also noticed that a surprisingly large number of people who overexerted themselves with their magic or got infected with magical diseases had been students in their first to third year during Neville’s seventh year. It had never occurred to him to link this with the Carrows’ treatment of the students. 

“I’m certain that the Carrows were not aware of that,” Lestrange said.  
“I don’t think that’s an excuse,” Neville said. “I do wonder why they chose someone to teach Dark Arts class who didn’t know what the spell he tries to “teach” all year actually does.”  
“Yes, I’m not going to defend this staff decision. Still, it would have been hard for them to know about this particular phenomenon. I’ve come across it during my earlier years at Saint Mungo’s and due to the particular circumstances; we didn’t publish anything about it.”  
“May I ask what those particular circumstances were?” Neville’s curiosity was awakened.  
“You may. It’s not really politically charged anymore. It was the first war between the Ministry and the Dark Lord. Saint Mungo’s was extremely busy and understaffed. Much more so than now. There were many injured trainee Aurors among our patients. We actually suspected that their “resist and survive-training” or whatever it was called included surviving at least one night at Saint Mungo’s.”  
Neville remembered his mother mentioning this kind of training when she had told him about her role in the war. She hadn’t mentioned any injuries though.

“The trainee Aurors usually didn’t want to tell the Healers what they had done in their top secret training and how they had received their injuries. You know what that means, tedious rows of diagnostic spells and sometimes hours spent on conditions that could normally be remedied with one counter spell. It wasn’t a very popular job. Derwent decided to delegate it to me so I could improve my skills at diagnostic spells.”  
“You probably weren’t happy about this, were you?” Neville asked wondering if his hatred for Aurors had already begun during this time.  
“Actually, I was,” Lestrange said. “I was an ambitious Slytherin and I couldn’t wait to have my own patients and prove myself. I was proud when I was given this task.” He smiled reminiscently. “It made me feel important. The trainee Aurors were all around my age and I was actually able to do my job already while they stumbled through their training. Rather foolish in hindsight maybe but being annoyed about it wouldn’t have helped me.”  
Neville asked himself if his parents had been among those trainee Aurors who had ended up at Saint Mungo’s regularly.  
“Anyway, I did everything very thoroughly because I wanted to show everyone I was able to. During the diagnostic spells, I found out that almost all of them had abnormalities in their magic. I didn’t really understand it at first but it made me curious of course and I wrote it down thoroughly and looked for clues. Well, and then a young witch came in who clearly showed signs of having been exposed to the Cruciatus curse.”  
Neville wondered who the woman had been. He asked.  
“You don’t know her and I’m not supposed to tell. She was really shocked when she found out that I noticed this without being told. This made me doubt that it had been an outside attack. After a while, she admitted that it had been used during her training and the people in charge had obviously lost control. Using the curse was completely new to them at the time. Derwent was shocked when he heard about it. He raised a big fuss over it because he thought it was his duty to protect those young people. Crouch didn’t want to hear any of it though. He believed it was necessary. When Derwent wanted to inform the press, they threatened to accuse him of Death Eater affiliations. Nasty situation. In the end, Derwent gave in but he was never comfortable with it. They did take better care in future though. And we learned what effects it has if someone repeatedly has the Cruciatus curse used on them for a short time.”

Neville thought that this Healer Derwent had been quite brave. Not everyone would have stood up against the Ministry even though it had been futile in the end. This corruption had probably been a major reason for the old government’s downfall.  
“So you’ve often treated Aurors?” Neville asked, wondering what could have made him join their enemies later. Where had all the hatred come from? Neville didn’t understand why and how Lestrange had made the transition from Healer to torturer. During all their many conversations, he had never talked about that. Lestrange hadn’t allowed Neville to see anything but a few chosen memories when he had taught him Legilimency either.  
“I’ve specialised in dark magic injuries. Aurors were most likely to sustain those and seek treatment. People who handled cursed objects illegally tended to avoid this though I had some of them as well and accidents of course.”  
Neville decided to ask after all. Maybe it would explain some things better. “Did you treat my parents as well?”  
“Your mother was at Saint Mungo’s quite a few times. Unlike your father, she also came if the injury wasn’t immediately life-threatening. Once during her training and rather often in her first months as a qualified Auror. She finished the training as the best of her year and seemingly was a bit careless and overconfident. She was assigned to indoor service for a while afterwards and had to accompany her injured colleagues to the hospital. Later, she was admitted twice when she had returned to her normal jobs.”  
“Careless” and “overconfident” were words Neville would never ever have associated with his mother. Was Lestrange telling him lies about her? Neville should have known better than to ask him of all people. Now he knew that she had indeed once been his patient, something he had always suspected. She had once trusted him and she had been betrayed in the worst possible way. Neville knew the same could happen to him, a danger he had never really denied. He was slightly surprised that Lestrange still knew exactly how many times in which period of her professional life Alice Longbottom had been his patient.  
Lestrange never acknowledged what he had done to her in any way. He neither showed any signs of guilt or regret nor any mockery or attempts to justify himself. Sometimes, Neville wondered if he was pretending to himself that those Death Eater years during the first war and the crimes he had committed didn’t even exist. Maybe he wanted to forget or simply thought it was convenient to act that way. 

“Neville.” Lestrange glanced at the clock on the wall.  
He had once again spent way too much time here with Lestrange, Neville thought. It was time to leave.  
“There’s something else we need to discuss before you leave,” Lestrange said, interpreting Neville’s movements correctly. “The Dark Lord has decided to return to a harsher course of action once more.”  
Neville had already noticed that. As far as he knew, Bellatrix had never been tortured by him since he cooperated with the Lestranges.  
“This is directed against his followers as well as his opponents and those he accuses of opposition. The relevant points are going to be published soon but I think it’s advisable to inform you as quickly as possible. You might remember the discussion about your mother’s status we’ve had a few weeks ago?”  
“Yes, I do,” Neville said slowly and with growing horror listened to the new information Lestrange was disclosing to him now.  
“You have to examine my mother and she’ll have to live in our house like a prisoner?” he finally asked. He had understood Lestrange’s words well enough but he wished to hear that it had only been a cruel joke. Neville should know better. Lestrange wasn’t fond of jokes of any kind. “Why can’t you simply leave her alone now?” For a moment, his anger overruled his caution.  
“This hasn’t been my idea. I’m only passing on the message,” Lestrange said. “The examination part is the least of our worries. I’ll simply tell the Dark Lord what we’ve decided to tell him. We both know that she’s not actually ill enough to be unable to become a citizen.”  
“She is,” Neville said. The alternative would kill her. He had barely managed to go through this himself back then and he had done it with a purpose. His mother had nothing like that.  
“But why this law that she’s not allowed to leave the house on her own? She can’t even go shopping or take the children to the playground or the magical zoo anymore. That’s chicanery and nothing else.”

“No Neville, it is not. It actually makes sense. If someone is not able to take care of him or herself, the person normally isn’t able to get along outside on his or her own either. This rule has been applied rather leniently and many people have used it to avoid contact with the regime. So far, no one has been bothered by this because it doesn’t do great harm but the Dark Lord has decided to change his policies now.”  
Neville sighed. If only she had filed this claim the usual way as long as this had been possible. Their hesitation had cost them this chance.  
“But why? Why does he suddenly think people like my Mum are a threat and wants to see her personally? She would have filed this written plea for clemency, we had almost decided this already.”  
“I don’t know that Neville. The Dark Lord has become rather paranoid recently. Not unlike back when he had to deal with Harry Potter. He didn’t share the reasons for this with us.”  
Neville mentally cursed the Dark Lord hoping that his Occlumency was good enough to keep that from Lestrange. Why did he have to decide to make their life more difficult for no reason? His mother had just started to go out on her own again and now she should be banned from doing so? Should she spend the rest of her life locked up at the Longbottoms’ house only allowed to leave when he was with her? What kind of life was that?  
“So you would tell the Dark Lord that she is ill enough for this?” Neville asked.  
“I will if that’s what you decide to do,” Lestrange said.  
“There isn’t really an alternative, is there?”  
“I’ve told you what the alternative is.”  
“She won’t do that.”  
“Simply inform her about the situation and tell me what decision you’ve reached,” Lestrange said.  
These words were too much for Neville. “Simply? This will surely be a very easy conversation!” Anger was flaring up inside him. He barely noticed how it turned to magic. The carpet under Lestrange’s desk caught fire. 

Neville was shocked. Something like that had never happened to him before. Well, during the illness but he didn’t count that. Lestrange put the fire out with a quick spell.  
“I’m sorry,” Neville said. “I didn’t mean to-“  
“I know that. We discussed that you might be more prone to accidental magic now. Work on it. I still need the files in this office.”  
“It’s just a bit too much,” Neville said.  
Lestrange cast a spell that Neville had never seen before. It formed a circle of red light around the room. He gazed at it transfixed. Was it supposed to prevent more accidental magic from Neville?  
“It will assure that our conversation remains private,” Lestrange explained curtly. “You’re not the only one who’s unhappy about the way things have developed. The problem is, we can’t do much about it. As far as your mother is concerned, there are two options now. Option 1: She remains under your guardianship which would leave her confined to the house and require us to lie to the Dark Lord. I’m capable of that and you might be as well but I’m not certain. If your emotions get the better of you, your shields become very weak.”  
They would have to lie to Voldemort. Neville knew that this wasn’t easy. He was actually surprised that Lestrange considered doing it for them. It would make them depend on him forever though. Not a very pleasant thought.  
“Option 2: She agrees to plead for clemency in front of the Dark Lord. This means she has to lie to him and keep her true beliefs from him,” Lestrange added.  
“What makes you think you know what her true beliefs are?” Neville asked startled.  
“You’re not seriously asking me this, are you? Why would she have changed her mind? And if she had she’d have applied for citizenship all along.”

This complication hadn’t occurred to Neville at all. He had only thought about the emotional impact this would have on his mother but had never considered the fact that Voldemort was an extremely skilled Legilimens. He would find out what she truly felt and the result would be a catastrophe. He simply couldn’t imagine his mother being skilled enough in Occlumency to fool the Dark Lord. She seemed so vulnerable and weakened in her magic.  
“Only Alice herself knows if she can fool the Dark Lord and she’s the only one who knows which option she prefers as well. Therefore you need to tell her. Stop treating her as if she were a small child.”  
“That’s none of your business,” Neville said, anger threatening to take over once more. This time, he made sure that he didn’t start any fire though.  
“If this was about any ordinary patient you would completely agree with me.”  
“I understand that you don’t want to lie to the Dark Lord,” Neville said taking the discussion back to the core of the matter. Lestrange would of course prefer the option where Alice had to persuade the Dark Lord and was the only one in danger if something went wrong. Neville knew how Voldemort treated disobedient followers and Lestrange had no obligation to put himself in danger for their sake, Neville knew that. It was their only option though. If they didn’t want to go underground but this was a last resort. Especially with Hannah and the children.  
“Lying to the Dark Lord for you is nothing new to me,” Lestrange said. “I know things about you that he must never learn of if you don’t want to be in grave danger and I’ve kept them to myself for a long time.”  
Neville felt as if a heavy weight had been dropped into his stomach. He couldn’t mean that, could he? Had he found out about the Order after all? His hands clenched around his chair. He was telling him now, at the end of this long conversation? Neville forced himself to look at Lestrange and listen. 

“You’ve been a great help in the treatment of the many war casualties and you’ve had a huge part in the good reputation Saint Mungo’s enjoys nowadays,” Lestrange said. “This way, you have contributed more than many Death Eaters. You’re also giving medical treatment to fugitive opponents of the regime who live in hiding though. You do not believe in the Dark Lord and you never did. You never changed sides, only strategies. The Gryffindor who wanted to be a Hufflepuff has chosen the Slytherin way of life. This additional lie about your mother’s health doesn’t really make a difference.”  
Neville starred at him open-mouthed, his hands still around the legs of his chair. He knew and the way his words sounded he had known all along. Could this be true?  
“I’m not a fool Neville. There have been more than enough signs. Every time you become emotional... This hasn’t been too much of a problem so far but with the new situation, this might change.”  
“So you’re going to tell him what you think about me?” Neville asked. His breathing had become very shallow. Lestrange would surely notice. Had this been all? Was it over now? Would Lestrange hand him over to Voldemort? Him and his mother and his wife and children? Hannah was on their side, would they leave her and the children alone at least? He should have known that he wouldn’t be able to fool them forever.  
“I have to admit that the situation is causing a bit of a dilemma for me. Bellatrix has been looking for the fugitive members of the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore’s Army for ages. So far, the Dark Lord hasn’t been too concerned about her lack of success because they didn’t cause any trouble. This has changed now. He’s coming down on her hard and while she is clueless, I know that you probably have the names if not the whereabouts of those people.”

Neville wasn’t able to think any coherent thought anymore. He felt cold sweat on his face and under his arms. He wouldn’t betray the Order, never. At least, he wasn’t their Secret Keeper.  
“If I knew that catching these people would earn my wife the Dark Lord’s respect, I’d attempt to get the information from you. This isn’t the case. It wouldn’t make any difference at all. You’ve sworn the Healer’s Oath and you take it seriously. I do not blame you for that. I’m not going to tell the Dark Lord about it. I’m not sure how long you’ll be able to keep this up though. The Dark Lord didn’t make it explicit but he seems to be suspicious about your family. You need to be extremely careful and you need to improve your Occlumency skills.”  
Neville took a deep breath. So Lestrange didn’t mean to turn him in. At least not right now. He might do so whenever he liked. The idea that he was siding with one of the supposedly most faithful Death Eaters against the Dark Lord felt unreal in a way.  
“I know that you still have trouble believing it but I don’t want you to come to harm. I’ve kept this secret for a long time because I didn’t want you to waste your strength worrying. Strength you could instead dedicate to your work. Now you need to know that I’ve found out the truth and that others might do the same. I’m fairly skilled at Legilimency but my skills in this area aren’t extraordinary. You will learn proper Occlumency from me and I can only tell you that you need to be extremely careful if you still want to meet these people. The good times are over and there’s danger ahead. I’d wish to tell you something else but that’s the truth.”  
“I’ve figured out that much,” Neville said. 

He had still trouble thinking normally. The thing he had feared had indeed happened. The only thing that wasn’t the way it had been in his worst nightmares was the fact that Lestrange wanted to help him. Neville had trouble believing this though.  
“Why do you want to help me? You’re one of his most loyal Death Eaters.”  
“I promise you that I will keep your secret,” Lestrange said. “That’s all I can tell you at least for now. I might ask you to do me a favour in return at some point in the future but so far, there’s no need for that.”  
Neville didn’t like this at all. He didn’t want to be in Lestrange’s debt. He was especially worried about the idea of some sort of obscure favour. With the threat of his own and his family’s death over Neville’s head he’d be able to make him do many things. Things Neville would never do if he had a real choice. Maybe this was Lestrange’s way of serving Voldemort. An effective method of controlling Neville. If only he understood Lestrange and his motives better. It might make the situation a bit more predictable. The Death Eater gave him no chance to get by this kind of knowledge though.  
“That’s all for now. I’ll contact you because of the Occlumency training. No one will be suspicious if we spend a bit of time together, we do so anyway.”  
Neville left Lestrange Manor, feeling as if he were trapped in a nightmare he would never wake up from. 

When Neville returned home, the rain had stopped. His mother and children took advantage of the relatively good weather and held a Herbology class in the garden. They seemed rather cheerful. Neville tried to slip into the house unnoticed. He didn’t want to trouble them with his problems.  
This attempt wasn’t successful though. His mother caught up with him. “Neville dear, what’s the matter. You’re so pale. What did they do to you?”  
“Nothing. We’ve only talked,” Neville said. He tried to make his voice sound calm but it didn’t work very well.  
“Alright. Francis, Debbie, listen,” she called. “I need to talk to your Dad. You draw your three sets of leafs and flowers and show them to me later.”  
The children gave their okay and Alice put an arm around her son, steering him into the house. Neville hadn’t wanted to tell her right away but maybe it was really better that way. He’d have it over with quickly if he did it right away and his mother seemed to have a relatively good day.  
They walked up the creaking staircase and into Alice’s room. “The Silencing charms will come useful,” she said. “Even though our children aren’t into eavesdropping as far as I know. Sit down and have a glass of water.”  
Neville drank and took a deep breath. He didn’t really know how he was supposed to break the news to his mother gently.

“What’s happened? Does Lestrange know about the Order?”  
Neville gave her an astonished look. “How do you know that?”  
“Merlin and Morgana help us,” Alice exclaimed. “I’ve simply added two and two,” she said more calmly. “He has been here and used Legilimency on you while you were severely weakened. It wasn’t hard to guess.”  
Neville swallowed. “He says he’s known about it before. No idea if it’s true.”

Alice shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter. So he doesn’t want to tell You-Know-Who at the moment? If you’re asking yourself why I know, you’re here which you wouldn’t be if he wanted to hand you in. You don’t seem to believe we’re in immediate danger either or else you wouldn’t have tried to sneak to your room without warning us.”  
“Yes, you’re right,” Neville said. He was glad that she wasn’t panicking or anything. She actually took the news much more calmly than he had.  
“From Lestrange’s point of view, telling the Dark Lord right now wouldn’t make much sense,” Alice added.  
“Why do you think so?” Neville didn’t understand why Lestrange had made this choice and he understood even less why his mother considered it the most likely one.  
“Well, I don’t think he has ever been very devoted to You-Know-Who on a personal level. Maybe you remember the situation in the Pensieve with Cordelia Savage’s treatment. He didn’t respect him but actively challenged him. I don’t think this has ever really changed. I believe he joined because he wanted power and someone who told him that he could use dark magic without those bothersome moral scruples other people expected him to have.”  
Neville had always believed that Rodolphus Lestrange like his wife strongly believed in the Dark Lord’s way of ruling a country and his belief in pure-blood supremacy. The idea that Lestrange had committed his crimes because of something he believed was much easier to bear than the thought he had simply done it without any real reason.  
“I think he’s on his own side and maybe on his family’s as well,” Alice added.  
Neville thought that this was probably true. What had he told him? He’d try to get information about the Order out of Neville if he was sure that it would benefit Bellatrix.

“Lestrange wouldn’t gain anything from telling You-Know-Who the truth,” Alice said. “He’s skilled enough at Occlumency to hide it efficiently therefore the danger for him is minimal. If he told him, he’d have to admit that he has failed when he and his wife were given the task to get you on their side. They would lose standing but win nothing for handing you in. Not something a Slytherin would do. He’d also be forced to stop this little game he’s been playing all along. If we’re both dead it’s over. I don’t think he wants that either.”  
What his mother said made sense, Neville thought. At least the first part did. It was the very first time he was discussing the current situation with his mother like that and he was glad that it was possible. She had more insights than he gave her credit for, he had to admit that.  
“This could be true,” Neville said.  
“I’m quite sure. It’s not You-Know-Who we have to worry about at the moment, it’s Lestrange. He wouldn’t have told you if he didn’t intend to use it against you or against both of us.” She sighed. “I’ve told you already, I’ve spent plenty of time trying to figure out what he might want with us but so far, I haven’t reached a conclusion. Maybe the closeness between the two of you is all he wants. Acting like a fatherly friend to you while your father can’t be there because of him. Giving you the feeling the two of you are in this together would strengthen this of course.”  
“I don’t see him as a “fatherly friend,” Neville protested. “If I would, I wouldn’t be scared of him turning me in to You-Know-Who, would I?”  
“This is only speculation on my part,” Alice said. “I didn’t intend to accuse you of anything. You’re right, speculation won’t lead us anywhere. I’d be glad if you’d be a bit more open with me in future though. Some things are easier to understand if two people think them though. We might be able to spot danger earlier this way.”  
Neville sighed. “I don’t want to bother you with all those things and make it even harder for you.”  
“Really Neville. I’ve been an Auror and I’ve probably received far more bad news during my life than you ever did. I am able to cope with this kind of thing. Yes, I’m still suffering from the after effects of the Lestranges’ Cruciatus curse but that doesn’t affect everything else. You can stop treating me like a small child!”

Neville inhaled sharply. A flush crept over his face as he remembered how Lestrange had told him the exact same thing a little while ago. He surely wasn’t going to share this bit of information with his mother. Maybe it would really be better if he told her about the Dark Lord’s new policy though.  
“Alright. I’ll try to tell you more in future. There’s another problem for us. Something else Lestrange told me about. It concerns you.”  
Neville feared that his mother would lose her calm when she received this information but to his surprise she listened patiently. Only her tightly folded hands indicated that the information did bother her.  
“It’s not unexpected,” she said when Neville had finished. “I’ve been surprised that they’ve been so lenient for so long. They didn’t want to provoke too much resistance before the new government was firmly established. Now they don’t have to worry about that anymore and they can treat us more harshly.”  
She took a deep breath. “It’s a choice between two rather uninviting prospects as you surely know.”  
Neville was surprised. He hadn’t expected her to take this so calmly. Lestrange hadn’t been so wrong when he had told Neville to “simply” tell her the truth. Sometimes, she took things Neville found absolutely shocking very calmly as she did today and sometimes, she panicked over something that seemed completely unimportant to Neville. This unpredictability made it so difficult for him to speak to her about important matters.

“Things won’t stay the way they are. If you and Lestrange do declare me ill, I’ll be locked up in here and I’ll depend on him. We’re depending on him anyway as we know but if he’s personally involved with my status; it’s a different matter again. Changing it wouldn’t have very dire consequences for anyone else but it could shake up my life whenever he felt like it. I don’t fancy the prospect of living like that. I don’t want to give him any immediate power over my life if I have a choice.”  
Neville sighed. “I know it’s not easy.”  
“Yes. The other option is very hard as well of course. It would mean humiliating myself in front of all the Death Eaters. I’d have to see my former enemies again and let them mock me. Still, it would be one day and if You-Know-Who granted me the citizenship, I’d be free afterwards. Well, as free as I can be the way things are. The question is if I can go through this or not and I can’t really answer this myself.”  
Neville was surprised that she seriously considered this option. When Lestrange had mentioned it, he had been sure that she’d never want to do this under any circumstances.  
“If this were only about me, I’d join Remus, Kingsley and the others. I’d go into hiding, maybe faking my own death or something. I’ve thought about this before. It’s rather tempting but I know how much it would harm the entire family. Even if I faked my death, you probably wouldn’t be able to fake grief convincingly and I don’t want to do this to the children either.”  
Neville felt a wave of guilt washing up inside him. She was right. If she was alone, she’d be able to flee like that. She wouldn’t be forced to choose one of those two terrible options.  
“If it was only about me, I’d tell you to go if that is what you want,” Neville said. “I can’t do that though. I’m responsible for the children.”  
“I know that. It can’t be done. The same goes for leaving the country. In both cases, you and the children would be forced to face the consequences. And I don’t really want to run away anyway. I want to be able to make a difference somehow and I want to be there if one day the time for fighting comes.”  
“You don’t have to decide this today,” Neville said. 

“I know I don’t have to. The more quickly I do it the better though. I simply don’t think I can bear being locked up here forever. If everything goes the natural way, only half of my life is over. In a little bit more than three years, the children will go to Hogwarts. I’d like to have a job by then you know.”  
She had never mentioned that she was interested in a job before, Neville thought. There was so much he still didn’t know about her.  
“I know you’re doing everything you can for me, please don’t get me wrong,” Alice said. “But I don’t want to live like that for the rest of my time. Legally, I’m not allowed to take a job, not allowed to open my own vault at Gringotts, not even allowed to buy robes without your permission. I’ve been locked up at Saint Mungo’s for fourteen years; I don’t want to be locked up here for the rest of my life. What do I do when the children are at Hogwarts and you’re at work? Sit at home thinking about the past, slowly drowning in my own despair. I’ve had enough of this during the last years even with the children around.”  
Neville had always known that it was extremely hard for his mother to live with the knowledge that he worked with Lestrange and that the Death Eaters were ruling the country. So far, it had never occurred to him that she was suffering because of her legal status as well. “You’ve never told me that this is bothering you so much,” Neville said. If she had done so, they would have been able to file the plea before Voldemort had given out his new, harsher orders.  
“I know. So far, I’ve always told myself that it’s still the better option. I was able to go where I wanted, visit people and so on. If all of this is taken away from me, it’s going to be much more difficult.”  
“Yes, I understand that,” Neville said.  
It was true but he couldn’t think of a solution. 

“That’s why I think I have to go to You-Know-Who,” Alice said. “It’s not about becoming a Death Eater after all; I’d never do that of course. But going there and humiliating myself, why not? They don’t respect me anyway, it won’t make a difference.”  
Neville stared at her. She seriously wanted to do this? He feared that she was imagining it easier than it really was. It had been harsh enough for him.  
“You do know that the Dark Lord is a highly accomplished Legilimens, don’t you?” Neville asked. “He’ll be able to tell that you don’t really mean it.”  
To Neville’s great surprise, his mother smiled. “You might not believe it Neville but your mother is a highly accomplished Occlumens. We learned that during Auror training and both your father and I did very well. That’s how he was able to keep the information hidden from the Death Eaters until the very end.”  
Neville hated to tell her so when she seemed so confident in her own abilities for a change but he had no choice. Before she risked her life, she had to take everything into account. Hadn’t Lestrange said she had been very overconfident during the beginning of her time as an Auror? Neville feared that for the first time he witnessed her acting that way himself now. He wasn’t as happy about it as he had thought he would be.  
“And you are sure that you are still able to do that?”  
“Yes, I am sure,” Alice said her tone only slightly less confident. “We’ve learned to deal with memories we have no control over and Occlumency as well. It’s not that unusual to have some of those if you’re an Auror, at least for short time periods.”

“Alright. It’s your life and your choice,” Neville said. He tried to force himself to speak calmly. “If you want to do this, I won’t try to keep you from it.”  
He would have preferred the other option, it seemed so much safer. He knew however that he couldn’t force his mother into the position of an insane patient for the rest of her life against her will.  
“Yes, I do. Maybe I can even use these memories to my advantage. The more weak and defeated I look the less they consider me a threat. This can come in very useful in the future. I’m going to do it. Do you know how the procedure works?”  
“Well, I’ve done it once,” Neville said with a sigh. “I’ll help you contact the necessary people. And we have to tell Hannah as well.”  
“I think I’ll apologise to her. She doesn’t need to know that I don’t really mean it. I probably really won’t get her away from You-Know-Who if I’m too blunt. Have to try it in more subtle ways.”  
“That’s a good idea,” Neville said hoping that at least the constant argument between the two witches would come to an end this way. It was the least of his problems but they had to start somewhere. And maybe, just maybe the Death Eaters would treat his mother civilly and she’d really improve when she as an accepted citizen.  
Maybe.


	18. Her Hardest Path Part 1

“You don’t really want to go like that, do you?” Hannah sighed in exasperation.  
Alice rolled her eyes. “I don’t think it makes any difference.”  
“Of course it does. Your robes are far too big and you have to stick them up in odd places. They’ve gone out of fashion ages ago as well. Just imagine you were going to meet the Minister of Magic. You would try to give a good impression too, wouldn’t you?”  
“Yes, well. I don’t really have anything else though.”   
She had planned to buy new robes months ago, but so far, she had never felt like venturing into the busy Diagon Alley fashion shops.  
“I can lend you something of mine,” Hannah offered. “Wait a moment.”  
Alice’s daughter-in-law had accepted her apology. She was really excited about Alice’s plans to become an official citizen of the Voldemort-ruled wizarding community. To her, it was a cause of celebration. Alice didn’t like her attitude about it any more than she had in the past but she knew by now that she wouldn’t achieve anything arguing. Hannah wasn’t evil and she cared about her family, there were no doubts about that even though she could be a bit naive at times.  
Hannah wanted to celebrate Alice’s admittance; she didn’t doubt that the Dark Lord would accept her. Alice herself wasn’t so sure. She had felt rather confident when she had shared her plans with Neville but doubt had started to creep up again since then. Maybe she was making a grave mistake and gave everything away. Or she had been overconfident in her own ability to cope with the situation she was facing. What if she felt much, much worse afterwards? Fear and painful memories almost were the thing she was most afraid of.

Hannah returned with her robes. They were black with small coloured bands on the collar and the hem. If you looked closely, the bands resembled red, blue, yellow and green snakes on shining fabric.   
“That’s really nice,” Alice said. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to wear anything with stylized snakes on it but maybe it appropriate for the thing she was going to do. “I think I’ll have to kneel on the floor or something though. I really don’t want to get your pretty robes dirty.”  
“Don’t worry,” Hannah said. “They have anti-stain charms on them. Just try them on so we see if they fit.” She handed Alice the robes and something that looked like a pair of black leggings. “That’s so you’re covered up if the winds blows the robes aside,” she explained. “Shouldn’t really be a problem in this weather but they go well with it.”  
Alice was grateful for this addition. She didn’t know what was going to happen but she wanted to be fully clothed during it. She never ever wanted to be tortured wearing nothing but a night gown again. She knew how absurd this sounded but she kept thinking about it for some reason. Rodolphus’ hands on her bare shoulders still made her shiver with disgust so many years later.   
She tried the robes on and they really seemed to fit. Hannah was more petite than Alice had been in the past but her now overly thin body fit comfortably into robes and leggings.   
“Much better,” Hannah said when Alice returned from the bathroom. “I’ve never worn them yet so you don’t have to worry about that either. Now we need to do something about your hair.”  
Alice refrained from commenting. In the situation she was facing, wearing robes someone else had been seen with before would be a minor problem indeed. Still, she was grateful for Hannah’s fussing in a way; it took her mind off more grave matters.

Hannah wanted to tie Alice’s hair up in a knot but she insisted on a simple ponytail. It wouldn’t look quite as bad if anything happened. When she had finally finished, it was already time for dinner. Alice didn’t feel like eating at all. She was unable to swallow a single bite. Even watching the others eat made her feel rather nauseous. Better not to have much in her stomach if she vomited everything up again later.   
If things went badly, this might be the last time she saw her family. The children were at the Bones’ once again. She didn’t want them to see her in a bad state like Roderic had been forced to with his mother. If something went wrong, they might be safer there as well. Alice had tried to give them a normal goodbye but she felt that they had probably noticed something. Alice went to the bathroom once more and sat down again, still not touching anything. “We can have a quick midnight meal when you return,” Hannah said.   
“Yes, that would be nice,” Alice said. If everything went well, she’d surely be hungry then.   
Alice was relieved when she heard the doorbell ring. The longer she had to wait, the worse it would get. She hugged Neville and Hannah goodbye and tried to look confident. She didn’t want them to feel as worried as she did now. It had been her choice and she had to go through with it alone.

Alice went out into the garden. The wards had been dropped for this occasion because Neville didn’t want to spend time on the complicated blood wards. He was going to put them up again when Alice was gone.  
Dylan Mulciber and Theodore Nott stood in front of the gate, both wearing their hooded black Death Eater cloaks. Mulciber wore the badge with the snake and the shield that marked him as a Security Officer as well. He was the Death Eater who had suggested to Alice that she should try and brew the Goldberry Potion when she had met him in Diagon Alley. The youngest Mulciber and Theodore Nott had volunteered to be her witnesses in front of the Dark Lord. It was a very strange feeling. Death Eaters visiting to take her away more or less willingly. The feeling that she had made a grave mistake grew stronger and stronger but there was no way back anymore.  
“Good evening, Mrs Longbottom,” Mulciber said. Alice returned the greeting.  
“We’ve still got a bit of time left but there are a few things we want to explain before we go. You’ve already decided what you’re going to say to the Dark Lord?”  
“Yes, I have,” Alice said. She had learned the words by heart and hoped she wouldn’t forget them in the crucial moment.  
“Good,” Theodore said. “It’s easier than having to think it up on the spot.”  
“Yes. When you speak to the Dark Lord it would be best to address him as “my Lord.” It’s not a terrible problem if you can’t do it but do so if you can,” Mulciber said. “Don’t use the term “Master” though. Only Death Eaters call him that.”  
“Alright,” Alice said. She intended to be as polite and submissive as possible; it was part of her plan. 

“Good. When the Dark Lord arrives, you kneel down,” Mulciber said. “He’ll ask you who you are you tell him and afterwards he asks you what you’re here for. Then you make your little speech. When you’ve finished, you’ll be tested for mind-altering potions and the Imperius curse first.”  
Alice sighed. Neville had told her about this step. If it hadn’t been, she could have drunk a Calming Draught or some Goldberry Potion. Now she had to go through the evening without any potion support. There was something else. “Rodolphus Lestrange is going to do it, isn’t he?”  
“I assume so,” Mulciber said. “He’s still the only one with healing training among the Death Eaters.”  
Alice had expected it but this didn’t make it any better. She’d have to come face to face with him and Bellatrix. The last two times where this had happened, she had been able to vanish into the shadows. This time, it wouldn’t be possible. All eyes would be on her and she’d be forced to interact with them.  
“You haven’t taken any potions, have you?” Theodore asked.  
Alice shook her head.  
“Next, the Dark Lord himself will use Legilimency to test if you really mean it,” he explained.  
Alice knew about this step already. Her plan was made and she was relatively sure that it worked. If everyone played by the rules there wasn’t anything to be feared but she knew that she couldn’t expect these people to do so.  
“Afterwards, the Death Eaters are allowed to ask you questions,” Mulciber continued. “We can reject them if they’re inappropriate though and we’re going to do so if necessary. When this has been done, the decision is reached.”  
“You really don’t need to be so nervous,” Theodore added. “So far, only one person has been rejected and he tried to attack the Death Eaters. That’s why you’re not allowed to come with a wand anymore.”  
“Yes, I don’t have it with me,” Alice said. Being wandless made her feel very helpless but being faced with Voldemort and all his Death Eaters having her wand with her wouldn’t have done her much good anyway.  
Mulciber looked at this watch. “Well, it’s time to go. I’ll take you side-along-apparition.”

A few unpleasant moments later, they reached their destination. A heath with no human dwelling anywhere nearby. They weren’t the first people to arrive. Alice saw quite a few figures in black cloaks walking around.   
That was it, she was here.   
Her companions greeted the others with the Death Eater greeting while Alice wished them a good evening. Theodore’s wife Daphne gave her an encouraging smile. She noticed that some of the others were conversing in French and German.   
“I’m glad you’ve finally decided to take this step,” a relatively young witch with long blond hair said. “Will make things easier for both you and your son.”  
Alice remembered that she was called Lisa Turpin. She had sat next to Narcissa on the day when she had talked to Roderic. The thought of the boy made her worry once more. She hoped he hadn’t gotten into any trouble with his parents.  
A rather handsome young man with dark skin approached her. “Good evening. Blaise Zabini my name.”  
Alice remembered that name. Zabini was a rather famous young potioneer. She wouldn’t admit the source for this knowledge though. Zabini had been the “Wizard of the Month” in Witch Weekly. In the past, Alice had never read this magazine but it was good for easy distraction. Some of the articles had become more sophisticated than they had been in the past or so it seemed.   
“Good evening. Alice Longbottom. I’ve heard of your excellent work on the Wolfsbane potion.”  
“Oh, that’s been nothing special. Only a few slight improvements of an already existing potion,” Zabini said.   
The arrival of Professor Snape drew his attention away from Alice. Her son’s former Potions Master nodded curtly when he saw Alice before starting to discuss some potions details with Zabini. He was surely proud about this successful student from his house. With Neville, his teaching had been far less successful. Only Lestrange had been able to teach him how to make potions during his seventh year.

“Ah, good evening Mrs Longbottom,” a rather thickset young man with short brown hair said. “I hoped for a chance to speak to you.”  
Alice was surprised to hear that. She hadn’t expected the Death Eaters’ to act that way. Hannah hadn’t been so wrong after all. This felt almost like some Ministry event where people from different departments mingled. It had nothing in common with the Death Eater meetings she had witnessed in the past. With the exception of Snape, she had only met Death Eaters of the third generation so far. That was probably why.  
“Warren Montague is my name,” the wizard said. “I’m head of the Saint Mungo Healing Herb Nursery.”   
“I’m pleased to meet you,” Alice said. Now she remembered that Neville had told her about Montague. He had been rather surprised that the former Slytherin Quidditch player was interested in plants but they seemed to get along quite well.  
“Well, when you’re an official citizen, you might look for somewhere to work,” Montague said. “I might have something for you. I know you’ve been trained for a different profession but you Fawleys are known for a green thumb.”  
“Thank you for your offer,” Alice said politely. She would certainly consider this. Growing herbs for the hospital was a safe job and one where she’d surely do well.  
“We have various part time options as well if you don’t want to start with a full job after this long time,” Montague continued. “I know, many people don’t think working with plants is the most interesting thing but I disagree. Many plants-“

A harsh female voice interrupted him. “Take up your positions. The Dark Lord will arrive soon.”  
Alice pulled her robes more tightly around herself. She recognised this voice right away. It belonged to Bellatrix Lestrange.  
“What’s going on here anyway?” Bellatrix asked. “Until this is over, she’s an enemy fighter and has to be treated accordingly. You’re not supposed to talk to her yet.”  
Some of the younger Death Eaters rolled their eyes or shared annoyed glances. “Enemy fighter indeed, that’s ridiculous. She’s the mother of Healer Longbottom.” Montague was the only one who said something aloud. Bellatrix had walked on and didn’t seem to have heard him but her husband had.  
“The procedure has to be observed Montague,” Lestrange said. “You really should postpone your job interview until after the meeting.”  
“It’s a mere formality, isn’t it?”   
“Let’s hope so.”  
Alice was sure that he wanted to frighten her on purpose but that didn’t mean it wasn’t working. She couldn’t deny that she was afraid and it was all her own fault. Maybe she should have listened to Neville.  
“Some of you seem to forget that Alice Longbottom was an actual enemy and not some child who put graffiti on Hogwarts walls,” Bellatrix told the younger Death Eaters while they began to form a circle.  
Alice turned to Theodore. She needed some form of distraction. “You all know before where you have to stand during the meeting?”  
“Yes, we do. It has to do with our rank,” Theodore explained. “The closer you stand to the Dark Lord the higher your rank. The spaces for the people who aren’t here remain empty.”  
“My father for example,” Mulciber said. “He has business abroad. Come on, we will be directly in front of the Dark Lord.

Reluctantly, Alice followed them to the high chair on the other side of the circle. Voldemort was the only one who was going to sit. On his right hand side stood Severus Snape, on his left Bellatrix Lestrange, Rodolphus beside her. Alice suppressed a sigh. She didn’t like the arrangements. This way, they’d be watching her all the time. Her eyes gazed over the other Death Eaters. Many of the people close to the Dark Lord where Death Eaters of the second generation as well but Lisa Turpin for example was much closer than Lucius Malfoy. The Carrows were even further away. Alice was glad that so far she hadn’t been forced to talk to them.   
She recognised Rookwood, Avery, Mr Nott senior and the younger Crabbe and Goyle. The Jugsons were there as well and so were Yaxley and Rowle. Rabastan Lestrange was accompanied by a very pretty witch with curly brown hair who looked quite a bit younger than he was. The vast majority of Death Eaters present had joined after the war or maybe in the last years of the second one.   
“The Dark Lord will arrive at any moment,” Mulciber told Alice. “You should kneel down now and look ahead.”  
Alice took a deep breath and knelt down on the grass. It was dry and relatively soft, at least something. Mulciber and Nott remained by her side, standing one step behind her. If she was supposed to look ahead, she couldn’t help seeing the Lestranges. Bellatrix was looking eagerly at the empty chair were her Master would sit down soon. Rodolphus on the other hand was more interested in Alice and watched her intently. She hated this. Couldn’t he simply ignore her presence as he had done during their last few meetings? Alice didn’t meet his eyes. He’d notice how nervous she was which she didn’t want him to do.  
Alice was almost relieved when the sound of apparition marked the Dark Lord’s arrival.


	19. Her Hardest Path Part 2

Voldemort’s appearance had changed slightly since last time Alice had seen him. His eyes were still red but he had done something about his missing nose. There still wasn’t any hair on his head. All the Death Eaters bowed until he raised his hand to allow them to stand up normally again. An eerie silence had fallen over them.  
“Welcome my Death Eaters,” he said. His voice was still very high and cold. Nothing about his voice or appearance could explain the soppy look on Bellatrix Lestrange’s face. Alice at least preferred men with a deeper voice. Like Frank. She didn’t want to imagine what he would think if he knew what she was doing right now. Would he understand if she explained?   
“I’m glad to see that everyone available has followed my call. I’ve asked you to come here tonight because we have to decide over the Plea for Clemency of Mrs Alice Longbottom née Fawley.”  
“We?” Alice wondered. Since when had there been democratic elements in the Dark Order’s proceedings? More likely, Voldemort was just talking about himself in plural.   
“Most of you probably know Alice Longbottom as the mother of Neville Longbottom, distinguished Healer at Saint Mungo Hospital. Some of you have met her on the playground while looking after her grandchildren.”  
Theodore gave Alice a slight smile. That was exactly where they had gotten to know each other.  
“It is quite possible that not all of you understand why she is even listed as an enemy who needs to appeal for clemency before she can receive citizen rights. Those of you who have fought in the first wizarding war do know however. Alice Longbottom once used to be an Auror and a member of the Order of the Phoenix. She was a very dedicated enemy of our cause, dedicated enough to prefer Cruciatus curse induced insanity over having a small part in my return to power. Most of you should be familiar enough with the Cruciatus curse to know what that says about her.”

Alice took a deep breath. It wasn’t surprising that he mentioned this. No matter what sensible choices some of his supporters had made during the last few years, this was a man dedicated to nothing but causing the greatest possible amount of suffering for other people. Now she was at his mercy and he was going to exploit this. She had to live through it somehow, hoping that it would go well. It was one evening and more freedom afterwards. Only one evening and the more broken and frightened she looked; the more convincing her act was going to be.  
“She’s spent fourteen years in a locked ward at Saint Mungo Hospital before her son could help her back to health.”  
Alice quickly glanced at Rodolphus. If he was upset by the Dark Lord’s lack of recognition of his own part in this, he didn’t show it. Of course not.   
“It has been a long way back as it seems but tonight she has decided to leave her son’s guardianship and appeal for clemency on her own behalf. We have come together to decide, if she is worthy of being a citizen of our community.”   
Voldemort’s red eyes directly gazed at Alice now. “I see that tonight, I find you on your knees. Last time I asked you to kneel in front of me, you stubbornly refused.” A slight smile was curling his mouth. “I like this much better.”  
A few of the Death Eaters laughed. Alice tried not to listen. This had been expected.  
“Very well, Alice. I can call you Alice, can’t I?”  
“Of course. Whatever you wish my Lord,” Alice said. Speaking like this was much easier than she had thought. It was nothing but a role she played, a role she had chosen to play.  
“You are indeed Alice Irene Longbottom born to the House of Fawley?” Voldemort asked next. “A good pure-blood house if I may say so.”  
“Thank you for your appreciation. Yes, that’s my name.”  
“Good. Now, tell me and my friends here why you have come to this place tonight.”

“You have already told your Death Eaters what my role during the First War has been, my Lord. There is no need for me to repeat this. I’ve fought against you because I believed it was the right thing to do. I believed that this was a war about good and evil. I know now that this hasn’t been true. It has been a war between one group of people who wanted to keep power and another who wanted to gain it.”  
This wasn’t exactly a lie even though Alice still believed wholeheartedly that the old Ministry and most of all Dumbledore had been the side that should have won. There were black spots in their history as well though and she was going to use them to explain her supposed regrets. Using half truths was easier than telling outright lies. She could add some real feelings and memories for the Dark Lord to see which would make it far more convincing.  
“We called your side evil because you killed while we thought it was right to send you to the Dementors and condemn you to a slow and agonizing death.”  
She let Voldemort see the memories of some of her visits to Azkaban after his fall and her real regrets she felt when she saw the mad and screaming prisoners behind their bars. She didn’t let him see that she was mainly concerned about those who had been sent there even though their guilt had never been proven.  
Afterwards, she added a few words repeating things she had heard from Hannah. It wasn’t easy to make them sound convincing coming from her own mouth when she had argued against Hannah about them so often but she didn’t do a bad job. 

Some of the Death Eaters were muttering to each other when Alice had finished her speech. She wasn’t sure if they were making fun of her, couldn’t believe her or were actually moved by her words. Probably a bit of everything.  
Bellatrix looked at her directly through her heavily-lidded dark eyes. “Finally,” she said with a short nod. So she had been able to persuade her, Alice thought. Maybe the Dark Lord would feel the same way.   
Voldemort looked around. The circle seemed to shiver as if they had felt a cold breeze. Silence fell once more. “You’ve heard what she had to say, Death Eaters. Rodolphus, the next part is yours.”  
Alice flinched at these words but then she remembered what her witnesses had told her before the meeting. Rodolphus was supposed to check if she had taken any potions or was under the Imperius curse. She had undergone this potions test many times as an Auror. It was part of the advanced security procedure. She wasn’t sure how they wanted to test her for the Imperius curse. The Aurors hadn’t had a secure method to do so. In suspicious cases, they had sometimes subjected the person to the Cruciatus curse for a very short period of time. It broke the Imperius curse immediately. She had endured short doses of the curse many times but right now, the idea left her paralysed with fear. She had known that this might happen but she was still so unprepared.   
Rodolphus Lestrange standing over her with a wand once more alone was almost unbearable. Alice wished to be anywhere but here and regretted a thousand times that she was doing this. She didn’t even understand why it had ever seemed like a sensible idea.

“You’re familiar with this test, aren’t you?” Rodolphus asked.  
Alice simply nodded. She wasn’t sure if she was able to say anything coherent.  
“I’ll need a few drops of your blood.”  
She nodded again and pulled her robes up to reveal her underarm. Her hands were shaking badly but it was still better than letting him touch her. Rodolphus cast a spell that made blood drop from her arm and let it fall onto a plate with small slots on it. She didn’t register any pain. At least none that compared to what she expected and remembered. When every slot contained a drop of blood he undid the spell and stepped back to perform the tests, some with other potions, others with his wand.   
“She hasn’t consumed any potions,” Rodolphus finally told Voldemort and the other Death Eaters. Alice had known this anyway. She took a deep breath. A dose of Goldberry Leaf Potion would have made this much easier but she hadn’t wanted to risk it.  
Alice braced herself for what was about to come next.   
“I know your familiar with the next step,” Rodolphus said which didn’t do anything to ease her sense of foreboding. “I’ll make a diagram of your magic.”  
At first, Alice was relieved when she heard this but this feeling was gone very quickly. She didn’t want Lestrange to have her magic diagram. He’d be able to read so much from it. Given the situation she had gotten herself into, there was nothing she could do about it though.

He spoke the same incantation that he had recently used on Neville. Slowly, Rodolphus’ magic was creeping into her skin. It made her think of the slimy substance that could be found in the drains when they needed a new cleaning spell. She felt revolted. Her own magic tried to rise up against it. It didn’t work. Instead, her body started to convulse, almost as if she were under the Cruciatus curse again. She tried to breathe, keep herself from screaming.   
Rodolphus stopped speaking his spell and tried a different one. Alice wasn’t able to understand the words or what it was supposed to do. It felt no different from the first one.  
He put his wand back into the pocket of his cloak.   
Alice tried to concentrate on the breathing exercises she had learned from Neville and slowly, his magic seemed to seep out of her. The pain or whatever it had been went away as well, almost. Her stomach was aching and she was glad that she hadn’t eaten anything for dinner. If she had, she’d probably not been able to keep it down. She realised that she wasn’t kneeling anymore. She lay on the ground instead. Was that a breach or protocol? She did her best to return to her kneeling position.  
“Are you alright?” Theodore Nott asked. “What’s happened?”  
“You’ll have to ask him,” Alice said her voice rather shakily.   
“Try it again,” the Dark Lord ordered.  
“Master, are you really sure?” Theodore asked. “I think she’s not very well.”  
“This spell is routinely used on people who are unwell, isn’t it Rodolphus?”  
“Yes, Master.”  
“Then try it again.”  
Part of Alice knew that she had to allow this if she wanted to get through this evening but she couldn’t do anything about the anger, fear and disgust she felt at the idea of Rodolphus’ magic touching her own. When he tried the spell again, accidental magic kicked in. There were silvery sparks that left small burn marks on Rodolphus’ cloak and face. He took a step to the side.   
Alice knew that accidental magic normally didn’t happen to adults. She also knew that she was in trouble now. Her subconscious magic had betrayed her when her mind would not. They had told her that the only person who had been rejected had attacked the Death Eaters. Now Alice had done the same thing. She thought of Neville and the children. She probably wouldn’t see them again because she had been stupid enough to come here. She’d die here, kneeling in front of Voldemort whom she had wanted to ask for mercy. Well, at least she hadn’t harmed anyone. Maybe she’d still be with the friends who had gone before when she reached the other side.   
A few of the watching Death Eaters laughed at her or at Rodolphus she wasn’t sure.  
“I don’t think this will work,” he said to even more laughter. 

“What’s this, Rodolphus?” Voldemort asked.  
“I don’t think I’ll be able to perform this spell on her. At least not as quickly and easily as would be appropriate on this occasion,” he answered. “My apologies Master.”  
Alice wasn’t sure where to look. Was she supposed to apologize for this attack on Rodolphus? It probably wouldn’t make any difference but she could try.  
“I’m sorry. I didn’t do this on purpose. It just happened.”  
“We are aware of that,” Voldemort said to her surprise. “That’s why I’m talking to Rodolphus and not to you at the moment.”  
Alice took a deep breath once more. Was there still hope after all or was he simply playing with her?  
“I’ve never seen you fail with your healing spells before, Rodolphus,” Voldemort said, addressing his Death Eater once more. “I have to confess that I’m surprised. Is there any evidence that she might be under the Imperius curse?”  
“No Master. I don’t think that’s very likely either way,” Rodolphus said. “I can’t think of anyone who would put her under it to come here.”  
“You’re right. And even if, this chaotic magic would probably have broken the curse anyway. It’s alright. Let’s proceed. The witnesses next.”  
Rodolphus stepped back to his position in the circle and Alice sighed with relief. She hoped that they wouldn’t have to interact anymore this evening. What had just happened made her worried and ashamed, but at the same time, she felt a faint hint of pride because her magic did not let Rodolphus act as if nothing had ever happened.   
She barely listened as Theodore and Mulciber explained where they had gotten to know her and why they believed that she was trustworthy. The Dark Lord sent them back to their position behind Alice before announcing the next step.

“Now it’s time to have a closer look at Alice’s thoughts and memories so we can decide if she has really been serious in the things she said or if her reaction to Rodolphus’ magic is more indicative of her true feelings. I’d like all of you to witness this, that’s why I’m going to use a spell that allows all of you to see what I’m going to see. This way you can help me spot what’s important.”  
The Death Eaters shared long glances. “This isn’t the usual procedure,” Theodore muttered to Mulciber.  
Alice hadn’t expected this either. Neville had only been forced to show his thoughts to Voldemort not to the entire circle. She didn’t really mind sharing the selected memories from the last eight years with the others. They were safe and harmless, that was why she had chosen them.   
Knowing Voldemort, she was certain that he would pick on the memories of the attack as well though and maybe those from Saint Mungo’s too. The idea that Voldemort saw this didn’t bother her too much. He didn’t respect her (or anyone else) anyway.   
The Death Eaters were a different matter. Would Montague still want to give her a job if he had seen this? Could he still respect her in any way then? Would people like Zabini and Turpin keep treating her like an equal or would they despise her in future? Why did Voldemort want to do this? Maybe he had lied when he had told her he didn’t blame her for the attack on Rodolphus and only wanted to torment her before he would tell that he was going to kill her after all.   
Either way, there was nothing she could do about it. She couldn’t hide those memories. If she did so, Voldemort would be able to guess that she was probably hiding more. And even if this weren’t the case, she probably wouldn’t be able to hide them anyway. She had no power over these memories.

Voldemort cast his spell now. He took Bellatrix’ hand into his own and touched it with his wand. A strand of silver light linked the two now. Bellatrix passed it on to Rodolphus in the same fashion and so it went on until the entire circle was connected by a band of silvery light. This was an impressive spell, Alice thought. If she ever got the chance, she’d be interested in learning it. Sharing memories with an entire group this way could be useful in some situations.  
“The two of you as well,” Rodolphus said to Theodore and Mulciber. He linked Theodore to the spell who passed it on to Mulciber. Alice wondered if it made any difference that Rodolphus was linked to three rather than two people. Not that it really mattered but thinking about spell theory was a welcome distraction.  
Voldemort raised his wand. “Look at me Alice.” She obeyed and looked directly into those strange red eyes. He was using a stronger form of Legilimency, Alice noticed. The simple kind didn’t require wand or spell. To her relief, there was no unusual reaction to Voldemort’s magic. Attacking him would have been embarrassing indeed and would probably have sealed her fate. The spell worked and so did, to Alice’s relief, her Occlumency. Voldemort’s intrusion into her mind was rather unpleasant and caused a headache. It wasn’t any worse than Scrimgeour’s Legilimency had been back when he had taught her though. Marlene’s approach had been completely different. It had been almost impossible to feel when she used Legilimency. Alice was sure that her own was similar.   
The first memory Voldemort made her relive was from the time when Alice had met the Notts on the playground. Sharing this with the other Death Eaters didn’t bother her. She had shown her public face there anyway.

Afterwards, Voldemort looked at a few other memories of Alice and her grandchildren and a few where she was working in the garden. This brought a very slight smile to the face. Montague could see that she really did have an aptitude for Herbology this way. Another memory showed her teaching the children about the witch burnings. She informed them that the Muggles had really killed witches and wizards back then and that people had been lied to about this in the past. Perfectly in accordance with the new regime’s approach.  
There were a few memories of Neville telling her stories from his school years. These were safe as well. He didn’t talk to her about the things that were bothering him anyway. Alice could hear a few of the Death Eaters laugh from a distance when Neville commented on Umbridge. She clearly wasn’t very popular here either. Umbridge wasn’t among the Death Eaters; Voldemort probably hadn’t considered her competent enough. When Neville talked about Umbridge he also mentioned the Carrows. Alice had deemed this memory safe enough but she hadn’t known that the Carrows would watch.   
“Later, the Carrows used this quill that would cut your skin as well. When I refused to use the Cruciatus curse, Carrow made me write “I must obey.” I wrote “I must not obey” instead though. Thought I’d get into trouble but he didn’t notice. Probably can’t read well enough.”  
“The boy’s handwriting was atrocious,” a man who Alice assumed must be Amykus Carrow commented. The statement was met with renewed laughter.  
“There is no need to defend yourself, Amykus,” Voldemort said. “We all know that teaching wasn’t really your thing.”

Voldemort picked up another memory with Neville. He told her about his first detention with the Lestranges.  
“I’ve put graffiti on the wall once again, we wanted to show that we don’t give in you see. I didn’t want anyone getting into danger so I did it alone. I got caught though and then Hannah turned up. She had followed me and said it had been her alone and I had tried to stop her. She said I was more important than her.”  
“Completely ridiculous,” Bellatrix muttered.  
“Be quiet Bella,” Voldemort hissed. She looked rather flustered. He hadn’t told Carrow off like this.  
“I don’t want any more comments while I’m doing this. If you want to say something you can do so afterwards. This goes for everyone.”  
He turned back to Alice. “Let’s continue. We are all curious to know how the detention went.”  
Alice let him see the rest of the memory. “They didn’t believe Hannah of course and we both had to clean the graffiti off the wall. Those we had done this evening and all the ones before. I know it sounds ridiculous but it was the worst detention I had all year. Bellatrix found it very amusing of course.”  
Bellatrix was smirking proving that Neville had been right about her feelings. She whispered something to Rodolphus and Alice wondered if Voldemort was going to tell her off again but he did not. Technically there was nothing wrong in making teenagers who had sprayed graffiti on the wall clean it off again but in this situation it had meant much more.

Voldemort continued his mind reading. The next memory was about her in the zoo with her grandchildren, Daphne and the Nott children. Francis and Hazel were eager to see the Dragon which was the greatest attraction in the magical zoo, an institution created by the new Department of Family, Health and Recreation. Deborah and Elsa meanwhile were more interested in the Kneazles who had kittens which they watched for a long time.  
Alice was surprised to notice that she felt almost comfortable now. Feeling comfortable while Voldemort was reading her mind was really strange but it made it more convincing. She also noticed something. There had been quite a few good things happening during the last few years, something she almost forgot when misery overtook her once more.   
The memory of her first meeting with Dylan Mulciber brought her closer to this. She wasn’t surprised that Voldemort would want to see this as well.  
“Good Dylan, this is what I want to see,” he said afterwards. “You are supposed to be seen helping those in need and feared only by those who’ve done something to expect punishment.”  
“Thank you, Master,” Dylan muttered.  
“Well Alice, I’m quite satisfied with what I’ve seen so far. You seem to have found your place in our new wizarding community as far as your health has allowed it. You probably know already that I will have to look a bit further backwards so I can judge the situation appropriately.”  
Alice swallowed. She had barely dared to hope that she might be spared that but of course she would not be. “Yes, my Lord. Of course.”  
“Very well, do not try to resist. Any resistance will be futile anyway and only make this more difficult,” Voldemort said.  
“I’ll try,” Alice said her voice very thin.   
“Look at me once more. Legilimens.”  
This time, her body tensed when she felt the spell. It made the accompanying headache worse. Voldemort easily found the wounded parts of her mind, of course he did. It very likely wasn’t the first time he tried something like that.  
Alice instinctively wanted to push him away. It didn’t have much of an effect though. Her sickly attempts at creating a barrier crumbled under his magic like a house of cards. For a moment, she felt as if she were falling into a vast abyss. 

Then she was back in that small Muggle house she had shared with Frank and Neville. She had just woken up from magic-induced unconsciousness, finding herself bound and captured. A swear word escaped her lips before she began to contemplate her situation. Frank was on the ground as well but by the way they were standing around him, Alice assumed he was merely unconscious and not dead. Her feet hurt. Some of the glass shards stuck in her skin. She had to remove them somehow but at the moment, she couldn’t reach them. She needed to think. It hadn’t been hard to recognise the Death Eater woman, not after their meeting at the Ministry. Alice had glimpsed into her mind back then, a mere mask wasn’t enough to hide Bellatrix Lestrange anymore. Two of the other men had to be Rabastan and Rodolphus. She didn’t know who the fourth one was. Not yet.   
Rodolphus had been the one who had defeated her. Alice felt a mixture of anger and shame at this. Shame because he was the least talented duellist of the three Lestranges and anger at his betrayal. A part of her had still hoped he might not have become a full Death Eater. When he cast the spell the Death Eaters always used to trap their victims if they didn’t want to kill them quickly, Alice knew that she had been wrong. The man whose talent and work ethic she had admired so much was one of those who had given up everything for Voldemort’s sake.   
Frank was awake now and he didn’t seem to be seriously injured. Alice breathed with relief. They wanted to know where Voldemort was. She wasn’t surprised. At least they hadn’t come for Neville. Frank had been gone for so long, they had probably realised he had found something. He refused to tell them of course, Bellatrix cast the Cruciatus curse. It didn’t worry her too much. They were trained to deal with that.   
The Death Eaters didn’t seem very interested in her at the moment. If she managed to loosen the ropes, she might be able to reach Frank’s wand. Rodolphus had taken her own but his wife had simply tossed Frank’s wand aside. They had escaped so many tight spots; there had always been a way. The Death Eaters were always too stupid and careless to take everything into account.

Rodolphus was standing over her, his wand in his hand. Alice resisted his curse as she had learned to do. The situation was so absurd. The man who could, who should cure people from the after effects of the curse was using it instead. She tried to catch his eye, make him see sense somehow but it was in vain. He was focused on his curse and didn’t notice anything else.  
Her magic seemed to slip away from her changing shape in ways she couldn’t control. As if worms were crawling through her, eating her up from the inside. Alice often dreamed of those worms. Her mind wanted to drift away into this dream but Voldemort made her continue remembering this scene.   
She felt panic rise inside her as the pain increased. He was making her own magic cause this. It was horribly painful, disgusting and simply not right. Her defences crumbled beneath her and she could do nothing but scream. She tried to fight back again, force his influence away. It was in vain. She was helpless like someone who came in contact with this curse for the first time.   
When his brother called for his attention, Alice told him that he should be ashamed.   
She knew now that this time, there would be no escape.

Bellatrix’ laughter sounded like fingernails scratching over a blackboard. It hurt her ears like her spell hurt the rest of her body. Bellatrix was feeling so much hatred and disgust and disdain for the “Blood Traitor” who dared to defy her.  
Alice had wanted to capture her but instead, she had been caught first. She had known that Bellatrix was going to make a mistake. Frank and Alice were her mistake. The Lestranges would go to Azkaban for this. No innocent people would be harmed. No innocent people would be harmed. Crouch would put them in prison for this.   
She repeated this countless times to herself. Take the mind of the pain somehow, if she lingered on it she had no chance to endure it and there was no choice, she had to.  
No one else would get hurt if Frank kept his silence. Frank had to keep his silence. He would. He was brave. He wouldn’t give up, not Frank.  
The look in Bellatrix eyes when she raised her wand to turn to Frank again wasn’t sane. As the pain left her once again, Alice wondered for a moment what had turned her into this madwoman. The thought was drifting away again, it didn’t matter.   
Frank needed to keep his silence that was all that mattered. She didn’t know anything of importance anyway. This burden was his alone. They couldn’t torture them forever. Sooner or later, they were going to kill them. They’d be reunited with Marlene. Her former superior and friend would be proud of them. Auror debriefing in the afterlife. Despite of the situation, the thought brought a smile to her face. She’d also see Lily again, Lily the friend who had been forced to go so early. In front of her inner eye, she saw her dancing, dark red hair and heard her laughter. “Soon, Lily, soon,” she whispered inaudible to anyone else over Frank’s screams.

When Voldemort began to search her memories once more, she saw Snape’s eyes boring into her own. Almost as if he were looking for some information his Master was missing. At least, Voldemort wasn’t making her relive the entire evening, Alice thought. He probably didn’t want to spend so much time on this.   
Alice was falling into the abyss of her memories again. She didn’t think about justice and her duty to other people anymore. Her magic had succumbed long ago, now her body had as well. Her once white night gown was stained with blood and worse, sweat was running down her face and her throat was so dry that the screaming hurt but she couldn’t keep herself from doing so either. Pain was everywhere; her whole world seemed to be made of pain. She thought she couldn’t stand any more of it but it went on and on and she was still there.   
Alice looked down upon her aching body. She seemed to be floating above it. Some part of her realised that this couldn’t be that something was wrong but it didn’t matter. It was her only chance to escape.  
It wouldn’t last long though. As he had done before, Rodolphus pulled her back into her body, forced her to feel the pain once more. It happened again and again.  
Then the pain was gone. She couldn’t believe it. Could it really be over?  
“Where is the Dark Lord?” Bellatrix yelled.  
“I don’t know,” Alice whispered. Hadn’t she told her so countless times? “I don’t know. Simply kill me, please?”  
She wasn’t sure if Bellatrix had even heard her. Maybe she had spoken too quietly. She looked at Rodolphus. For some reason, she didn’t quite know what it was; a part of her believed that he’d be more likely to have mercy.  
“Please, Rodolphus please, I can’t stand this anymore.”  
“I know that,” he said with a smile and spoke this word again. The pain was back and with the endless circle of Alice leaving her body and being forced to return to it.   
When it was gone again, she was gasping for air, barely able to breathe. The woman said something but her words made no sense to Alice.   
Alice tried to get the man to notice her, to help her. He could help her, couldn’t he? “Please, stop it. Make it stop, I’ll do anything,” she said, holding onto his robes. He simply kicked her away like an annoying animal. Alice didn’t feel the pain from that but she did when they cast their next curse.  
She hadn’t believed that it could get any worse but it did just that. The pain was getting worse and worse as if her whole body was being torn apart. Maybe that was what happened. She screamed and screamed and then she fell into a deep hole. He was trying to hold her back once more but this time he failed. This time she managed to get out of his grip, out of his reach, away from the pain.

 

No, she did not escape. When she looked up, she gazed into the eyes of Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange again, connected by a strand of silver light. She lay on the ground and could smell grass, she must be somewhere outside. Her head was aching and she was very, very cold. She shivered.   
“Mrs Longbottom?” a voice asked.   
She looked at the speaker, a young man with tussled brown hair and glasses, wearing a hooded black cloak. Slowly, she remembered where she was. Twenty-three years had passed, Voldemort had won and she was here to get accepted under his regime. Her mind was hardly able to process this fact.  
“Cold, I’m so cold,” she muttered.  
The young man, Theodore Nott nodded. “You should have brought a cloak. The nights are still very chilly,” he said in the falsely cheery voice Alice knew only too well from the hospital. “I would lend you mine but I think this is against the procedure.”  
“What about a warming spell,” Dylan Mulciber suggested. When no one protested, he cast the spell. It worked fairly well. She really started to feel warmer and it even eased her headache.  
“Do we still need the spell, Master?” Rodolphus asked meanwhile.   
Alice drew her too thin robes around herself more tightly.   
“I think we’ve seen enough. You can undo it.”  
Alice remembered that she was supposed to kneel rather than lie on the ground. Her knees were sore already. She noticed that there was grass in her hair and on her robes. She plucked it away and thought that it had been right to wear her hair in a ponytail rather than tied up. The Death Eaters were still quiet, Voldemort’s warning from before seemed to be rather effective. It reminded Alice of the silence after the Unforgivable curses had been shown to her class at Hogwarts for the first time. This probably wasn’t supposed to be anything other than a lesson on the Unforgivable curses for advanced learners.

“Are you alright?” Theodore asked quietly.  
“Yes, I’m fine,” Alice answered. She was, sort of. At the moment, she wasn’t thinking about anything and it was probably for the best. She would make it through this evening, somehow.  
The sound of Voldemort’s cold voice made her look up to him once more. “Very well my friends. You’ve already known I think how unwise it is to get on my Bella’s wrong side.”  
Bellatrix gave her Master a delighted smile at being addressed like that. Alice felt reminded of a loyal dog, living and killing only for her master’s appreciation. If Bellatrix were an Animagus, she might turn into a dog. Just like the cousin she had killed.  
“Some of you might not have been aware of the fact that the same is true for Rodolphus as well. You probably mainly know about his work in managing the healthcare system and about the number of impressive advancements he achieved there. You would be very mistaken if you believed that this means he doesn’t know his dark magic. I want you all to do how he does and excel at both, whichever the current situation demands.”  
Alice was sure that Bellatrix would have been jubilant if she had received this kind of praise from Voldemort. Rodolphus however didn’t give any indication that he even cared about Voldemort’s words. Remembering the conversation with Neville, Alice thought it wasn’t unlikely that he didn’t.   
“You’ve also seen demonstrated, very impressively I might add, the power the Cruciatus curse has even over the strongest if used by those accomplished enough. Never underestimate it my friends.”  
Alice thought that this was probably the closest thing to praise Voldemort would have for her.

“Now, let’s return to you, Alice. Do you feel prepared for the next step now?”  
“Yes, my Lord. Thank you for asking,” Alice said. Her inner mask was in place again.   
“Good. My Death Eaters will be allowed to ask you questions now. I strongly advise you to answer this time.” A smile was playing around his thin mouth.   
“Of course my Lord.” Alice was going to answer. Truthfully or not depended on the question.  
“You may get up now and walk to the side of the person who wishes to speak to you,” Voldemort said.  
Alice scrambled to her feet. She was glad that her legs were steady enough to carry her. After spending so much time kneeling, she had been worried that it might be difficult.   
“I want to ask you something,” Rookwood said.  
Alice walked towards him and looked at him expectantly. Rookwood had been an Unspeakable working at the Department of Mysteries. Igor Karkaroff had brought him to Azkaban because he had spied on the Ministry. Frank had been involved in his capture. She wasn’t surprised when Rookwood’s question was about Frank.  
“Do you know anything about your husband’s whereabouts? He has been given the cure as well if I remember correctly but left Saint Mungo’s and hasn’t been seen since.”  
“Yes, that’s all I know as well,” Alice answered truthfully. “We assume that he’s dead. At the point where he must have left Saint Mungo’s he wasn’t well enough to get along outside. He might have fled as well of course but we think it’s unlikely.”  
Alice couldn’t believe that Frank would have left without her but maybe. No one knew what the after effects of the curse had done to him.  
“So you are not in contact with him?” Rookwood asked.  
“No, I’m not.”

“Good question Augustus,” Voldemort said. The Death Eater smiled at the praise. “I think her answer is convincing. Do you as well?”  
“Yes, Master.”   
Alice thought that it probably wouldn’t have been wise if he had said something else.  
The next person who wanted to ask a question was the woman at Rabastan Lestrange’s side.  
“Good evening. My name is Minona Lestrange, your son mentioned me in some of your memories under my former name Minona Moonshine. I’m teaching Transfiguration at Hogwarts and I’m also as Neville told you a werewolf.”  
Alice was startled. Rabastan Lestrange had married a werewolf? Many of the Lestranges’ ancestors would turn in their graves if they knew about that. Neville spoke rather fondly of this woman. Her more nature-based approach to Transfiguration had appealed to him and helped him understand the subject better.  
“I’m pleased to meet you. Neville speaks very highly of you.”  
Minona smiled. “I’m glad to hear it. I’d like to talk to you longer but I think some of the others are already getting impatient. Therefore my question. You probably know that the Dark Lord has given us werewolves full citizen rights and has outlawed any discriminatory practices as reward for our support. You’ve been taught by the former Ministry so I’d like to know how you feel about that.”  
Alice thought of Remus and quickly made sure to hide these thoughts. Still, answering this question was easy. “I believe that werewolves have the right to be treated like other witches and wizards if they choose to act like human beings. Given that this includes a very wide range of behaviour, I don’t think there is any justification for discrimination.”  
“Thank you,” Minona said.

Lucius Malfoy was next. “Well, you’ve talked about the new order and that the situation isn’t the way you feared it would be for witches and wizards. I’ve noticed that you’ve not once mentioned the subject matter of so called “Muggle-born witches and wizards.” How do you feel about the policy of taking magic, unlawfully acquired by Muggle children away from them?”  
Alice had to lie to answer this but she had prepared herself well for that. She had expected this to come up earlier actually.  
“I do not believe that Muggles are able to take magic away from witches and wizards to give it to their children, how should they be able to do so without magical powers?” It was safe to say so; this matter was still controversial in the official media.  
“It must be an accident of nature and I’m sure that those children are better off when this alien magic is removed from them. They can live among their equals that way and aren’t forced to join a world where they will never really belong.”  
Malfoy nodded, he seemed to be satisfied with her answer.  
A young witch named Pansy Flint asked if Alice intended to have another child as was expected from pure-bloods under the new regime. Alice was rather taken aback by this question at first. She wasn’t young anymore and more importantly, she was a widow. Where was the child supposed to come from? Alice remembered that Neville had told her about this person and her rather lacking intelligence. Thus Alice simply told her politely that she was too old and unhealthy to have another child. 

Severus Snape was the next one to ask a question. “You are a well-trained Auror. Do you intend to take an active part in the defence of our country once more?”  
Alice instinctively wanted to take a step backwards. Defend her country? Work as an Auror or something like that in Bellatrix’ department? The other witch’s eyes were on her as well. That was impossible.   
“I was an Auror but those times are long gone,” she said carefully. “I’m still not very well and I don’t think I would be much of an asset here. When I go back to work, I’d rather do something less dangerous and precarious. Working with plants for example.” She wondered if Montague still considered her suitable to work for him.  
“I see,” Snape said his expression unreadable.   
A woman from the other side of the circle spoke to Alice next. She had never seen her before which was surprising because she seemed to be from her own generation. The woman had pulled her hood down over her face which was almost completely hidden in the shadows. Unlike many others she obviously didn’t want to be recognised by an outsider.  
Her introduction answered a few of Alice’s questions. “I am one of the leading Death Eaters from Germany,” she said with a very slight accent. “First of all, I’d like to tell you that I’m quite impressed by your courage. Your Opferbereitschaft, how do you say it in English, the way you’re prepared to sacrifice so much to keep other people safe is admirable. Every country wants to have people like you to protect it.”  
“Thank you,” Alice said giving her a slight smile. This was really unexpected. Voldemort had meant to humiliate her and she had expected people do despise her for the way she had acted back then but so far, they didn’t seem to do so at all.  
“I have to admit that I wouldn’t have expected this kind of brutality from a wizard like Mr Lestrange but I understood that it is obviously expected,” the German witch said.  
Oho, Alice thought. Voldemort certainly hadn’t foreseen this. The things he had made them witness were actually causing some amount of friction among the Death Eaters; this alone made her choice to come here this evening worth something.   
“That’s why I need to ask you: Why have you chosen to remain here rather than emigrate like many other former opponents of the Dark Lord have done?”  
“Well, my son and my grandchildren live here,” Alice said. “And it’s my home. I have to admit that I know little about other countries and I don’t speak any foreign language.”

“Another important question,” Voldemort said. “I do not wish you to question our way of dealing with our enemies though. Do you understand that?”  
“Yes, I do, Meister,” she said.   
“Very well. Any other questions?”  
Alice quickly glanced into the Lestranges’ direction but they didn’t ask anything. She was relieved. The less she was forced to interact with them the better.  
When no one else spoke up, Voldemort told Alice to return to the spot before him, flanked by Theodore and Mulciber.  
“What do you think Death Eaters? Does this woman, Alice Longbottom deserve mercy from us? Does she deserve to become a citizen of our land without suffering punishment for the deeds she committed against us in the past?”  
Alice looked around. Now the time of decision had come. She might walk away free or she might be imprisoned or killed or tortured once more. Her heart clenched in fear. She wasn’t able to face it all again. If only they’d kill her quickly if they decided that she wasn’t “worthy”.   
There was some muttering among the Death Eaters but Alice didn’t really understand what they were saying. Voldemort however seemed to recognise his supporter’s voices. “Nott?”  
Alice expected Theodore to say something but it was his elderly father. “I believe that she has been punished enough,” he said in a very hoarse voice. “I’m sure my son feels the same way, don’t you Theo?”  
“Yes, father. I wouldn’t be here with her if I didn’t.”  
“Thank you. Lucius?”  
“We agree with Nott. She is from a noble pure-blood family and she has realised the foolishness of the Blood’s Traitor beliefs she held in the past.” His son as well as the Flints agreed. 

“I think we should grant her mercy as well,” Severus Snape said. “In addition to everything else we also have to take into account that it’s not only her life and loyalty that depends on it. I’m sure Rodolphus wouldn’t want to lose Neville Longbottoms helping hand to some ill-fated attempt at revenge Longbottom’s Gryffindor nature would undoubtedly guide him into if we decided against his mother.”  
Alice wasn’t sure if this was a very good argument. Did Snape say that with the intention to help her or did he want to achieve something different? She knew that he had been Dumbledore’s spy for many years but in the end, he had killed the Headmaster and proved his allegiance to Voldemort. Alice still had trouble understanding how Dumbledore could have been foolish enough to put so much trust into someone who didn’t deserve it. He normally never judged people wrongly.  
“Thank you for your opinions,” Voldemort said. “Bella, would you like to give us yours as well?”  
“Certainly, if you wish me to do so, my Lord. I was sure that she has realised her mistakes when she made her speech at the beginning. When were watching her memories, I started to have doubts again however. I remembered that night myself and I remember how determined she was to oppose us. Her husband would actually have told us where to find you Master, twice, if it hadn’t been for her interference. Speaking from experience I can assure you that if you really believe in something, nothing anyone else does can make you change your mind. You have to choose to do so yourself. If she has done so or not, I cannot tell. The memories from the present days didn’t really make me sure one way or the other.”  
Alice’s heart sank. She had not believed that Bellatrix could be capable of such insights. At this moment she wished she wasn’t. They were highly inconvenient for her case. 

“It is possible that she has simply accepted reality as it presents itself and feeling unable to leave as she told our German friend does the only thing she can,” Bellatrix continued. “I did notice of course how willingly and trustingly she submitted to your probing of her mind, Master, a form of behaviour I’d never expect from someone who still opposes you. We have all noticed I’m sure the stark contrast between this and the mixture of fear and disgust she feels towards any attempts at magic coming from my husband.”  
Alice felt ashamed because all the Death Eaters knew about this now but it had been unavoidable.   
“If she still felt about you the way she did in the past, I’m sure she would have reacted to your magic the same way.”  
Alice thought that she had a point. It had really been rather strange. She had been alright with Voldemort using magic on her. This had to do with her preparation of course but she was quite sure that nothing she could have done beforehand would have allowed her to do the same with Rodolphus. She trusted Voldemort more than she trusted him. Did that make him proud?  
“I’m glad to see that you’ve observed this so thoroughly, Bella,” Voldemort said. “I’ve noticed these differences in her reaction to Rodolphus’ magic and my own as well of course. I’m also glad to hear that no one has ever been able to make your devotion to me waver. I have to tell you though, I’m not sure this would be the case if your husband had been on the side of our enemies.”  
This remark finally gave Voldemort Rodolphus’ attention. He looked at him intently, obviously trying to figure out what he was supposed to make of this statement.   
“I have to confess that I’m quite impressed by what he did there. I haven’t seen anything quite like it before. He did cause more than pain as we all could see I believe.”

Alice wished she was still supposed to kneel. Listening to this impassively while standing was much harder. Voldemort was right, she knew that but it still hurt to have it spoken aloud like that and she was certain he was aware of that.   
Voldemort didn’t intent to stop there.  
“Those agonizing years at the hospital that followed and once again, she depended on Rodolphus’ skills to get her out of there. I do think that is enough to make anyone truthfully admit defeat even you, Bella. Anyway, Rodolphus, we’ve only been talking about you so far. Now I’m talking to you. What do you think?”  
Hearing what he thought about the situation was really the last thing Alice wanted at the moment. How long was this supposed to take? Since when did he listen to the Death Eaters’ advice anyway? Rodolphus knew that it was all masquerade. Voldemort wasn’t completely wrong though. She wasn’t really the same person anymore.   
“Alice Longbottom has been living peacefully with her son and grandchildren for more than eight years,” Rodolphus said. “When she taught them, she didn’t attempt to make them hate you, Master. She informed them about the lies they’ve been feeding the students in the past. We’ve all seen that in her memories you shared with us. She encouraged them to socialise with Death Eater children like Theo’s daughters. Her granddaughter Deborah is friends with our Roxana and will visit her next week. In the course of the last eight years, she has made no attempt to cause trouble and I see no reason why she would do so in future. I’m sure you all agree with me that she won’t be able to form a dangerous rebel group on her own. The worst thing she could do is leave the country legally now and if that’s what she wants, why not? She wouldn’t be the first.”  
So he was actually attempting to defend her. Alice wasn’t really surprised. It fit the theory about his motives she had formed when Neville had told her that he knew about the Order. Rodolphus wasn’t really wrong anyway. Starting a rebel group was impossible and so far, Alice didn’t know of anything else she could do even though she would if the opportunity presented itself.

“No offense Bella but I don’t think speculations about what you would think, feel and do in her position will lead us anywhere. There’s no evidence that she’s lying whatsoever and I deem it extremely unlikely that anyone is able to lie to you, Master. Especially not in her condition.”  
“Thank you, Rodolphus,” Voldemort said. “Alice, you’ve heard what my Death Eaters have to say about you. Most of them think that you deserve my mercy. You will be glad to hear I’m sure that I feel inclined to grant it. As you probably know new citizens who’ve played an active role on the other side of the war have to go through a period of probation before they’re fully admitted.”  
Alice hadn’t known that. Neville didn’t mention it either. They had all assumed that the eight years under Neville’s guardianship had been enough. It had been foolish to think so as Alice realised now. The freedom she had longed for wouldn’t be granted to her, at least not yet. They weren’t going to kill or torture her either though. It could have been worse.  
“Rodolphus, you have watched over Neville, will you watch over his mother as well?” Voldemort was smiling once more.   
“Whatever you wish, Master,” Rodolphus said impassively.   
Alice stared into Snape’s cold dark eyes. She couldn’t look at either Voldemort or the Lestranges. Her legs were shaking but she had to keep standing. Keep standing; pretend that everything was fine that was all she could do. How could she have been so foolish? Of course, Voldemort wouldn’t simply let her go. Not someone who had once been a high-profile enemy of his. He wanted to cherish his victory and cause her as much suffering and distress as possible. She should have known it. She knew what Voldemort was like but she had been as naive as Hannah.   
“She will work as your assistant during that first year,” Voldemort said. “Properly paid and everything of course, we want to do this correctly.” If Voldemort’s expression was anything to go by, he found his idea highly amusing.   
Theodore Nott and Dylan Mulciber shared a long look. None of them dared to protest, no Death Eater would ever raise his voice against his master. No one was going to help her. She was still trapped in this nightmare and if there had been a chance to escape she had forfeit it herself by this stupid decision to come here.

“Rabastan, will you hand me the book and the quill?” Voldemort asked.  
Rodolphus’ brother handed the Dark Lord a very thick book and a quill with a sharp point.   
“Come here, Alice,” Voldemort said.  
She obeyed, numbly.   
“This is the Book of British Witches and Wizards,” Voldemort told her. “It contains the name of all our citizens.”   
He tipped the book with his wand and it opened. Alice saw the names of Frank’s cousin Fingal with his family and of Neville, Hannah and the children. Above Neville, there were two free spaces.   
“I understand that you know how a Blood Quill works,” Voldemort said.  
Alice simply nodded. She didn’t like the idea of writing her name in her own blood in this book but Neville had done it as well and she wasn’t going to back out now. It would only make everything worse. She touched the parchment with the quill and wrote her name: Longbottom, Alice née Fawley.  
“Very well. That was all,” Voldemort said. “I hope you will hold yourself well, Alice.”  
“I’ll do my best, my Lord,” she forced herself to say.  
“It is done,” Voldemort called to the group at large. “The meeting is over, you may go. I wish you a pleasant night.”  
The well-ordered circle broke as the Death Eaters started to gather in groups of their choice. Conversations ensued everywhere. Alice didn’t even want to know what they were saying.  
“We’ll take you home now,” Mulciber said. “You need your rest.”

Rodolphus walked over to her. Alice thought that she wasn’t able to hold any conversation with him this evening.   
“I’ll schedule a meeting with Neville at our place and you accompany him so we can discuss this arrangement,” he said.   
“Yes,” Alice said. She didn’t really want to drag Neville into this. He had warned her right away. This wasn’t up to her choice though, Rodolphus would probably tell him anyway.   
“Alright. We really need to get going now,” Mulciber said. “Good night.”   
Alice’s witnesses saw Rodolphus off with the Death Eater greeting and he walked back to his wife and brother. Alice barely felt any relief. She knew now that this hadn’t been their last meeting.   
“Come on,” Theo said to her and they took her hands to disapparate with her back to the Longbottoms’ house. Alice felt extremely dizzy after the apparition. She probably wouldn’t have managed it alone.  
“Shall we accompany you inside?” Theodore asked giving her a concerned look.  
Alice took a deep breath. “I think Neville has put up the wards again. Don’t worry. I’ll make it in. I’m sure he’s still awake. Thank you.”  
“No problem,” Theodore said. “We’re sorry that we couldn’t get you anything different but I’m sure you’ll be able to find some solution if Neville is involved as well.”  
“Yes, surely.” Alice didn’t believe that but she wasn’t going to argue.

When the two Death Eaters had left, Alice did not enter the Longbottoms’ grounds. She knew that Neville would be awake and waiting for her. She didn’t want him to see her in this state. Her stupidity was to blame for this mess and she didn’t want to upset him. She needed to be alone now, completely alone.  
She stumbled away from the gate and into the night. She was finally on her own, no need for masks and lies and displays of courage. At first, the tears didn’t want to come because she still felt as if she had to play her game. When she could cry, she thought it might make her feel better but tears weren’t going to help her and she knew it.   
Blinded by her tears she stumbled through the night, barely strong enough to continue walking but unable to rest. She could not escape and had even helped build the walls of her own prison. She had been stupid enough to believe that Voldemort would act like a legitimate leader now and had of course been proven wrong. All he did was play with her.   
She should have known better.


End file.
